


The Infernal Variations

by Neneithel



Series: The Winchester Pact [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 52,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27477637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neneithel/pseuds/Neneithel
Summary: Set just before Season 13 Episode 23. Castiel reminds Sam and Dean of their promises in the Winchester Pact and takes advantage of a time of relative calm to get them talking about Hell. Sequel to The Winchester Pact.
Series: The Winchester Pact [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007640
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel found Dean at the top of the stairs, looking down into a room full of people. He stood beside him, half watching the refugees from Apocalypse World and half watching Dean's smile.

Dean turned to look at him. "Sam has them all organised."

"Yes, he does." said Cas.

"Natural leader." said Dean, proudly.

"Yes he is." said Cas, "Dean, if you have time, I'd like to talk."

Dean nodded. "I always have time for you, Cas. Speak!"

"In private." said Cas.

"Private is in short supply around here." said Dean, "Let's go to my room." He led the way. As soon as the door closed behind them, he said, "What's the problem?"

"Well, first, I want to say that I know you have a ton of good excuses for it, but you know what they say about procrastination."

"I don't," said Dean, "But I promise to Google it tomorrow." He grinned, then the grin faded as he saw the expression on Castiel's face, "This is something important, isn't it?"

"The Winchester Pact." said Cas, "And most importantly, your promise to discuss Hell with me."

"Yeah, well, things have been a little busy, what with the son of Lucifer, the rift between worlds, rescuing Mom and all that."

"I know. Like I said, you have good reasons."

"You said excuses."

"I didn't mean that pejoratively." said Castiel.

"Okay." said Dean.

"But now everything's quiet. Sam has things in hand. Your mother is not just safe, but a hero. Jack is ... well, Jack is better than we could ever have hoped."

"Still a nephilim." said Dean, "Probably hears at least as well as you do and Mom is always around and I don't want her to hear anything about Hell."

"You've still never told her about it?"

"Oh yeah. First day back, I said to her, 'Hey, Mom, I was a torturer in Hell. Everyone said I was a natural.' Same time I showed her my porn stash and told her she had a grandchild, but it was a man-killing monster so Sam had to put it down. There are things you do not tell your mother, ever."

Cas smiled sadly, fighting the urge to argue with him then and there about his irrational sense of shame about all that he had suffered in Hell. He knew that to start such an argument now would be counterproductive. "We don't have to talk here." he said, "We can go anywhere you like. Mary and Sam can take care of things here. For once, you are non-essential personnel. You did promise, Dean."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know I did. Is it really worth it, though?"

"I don't know. Does Hell still bother you?"

"Well, that's a stupid question."

"Yes, but you asked one first." said Cas.

"There are a lot of other things we need to deal with." said Dean. 

Cas could see the fear in his eyes, not just of facing what had happened in Hell, but of something he said about it changing their friendship, maybe ending it. Cas knew that Dean wanted a way out, a reason not to ever wade into those waters again, deep and dark as they were, but he also felt a strong obligation to keep his word.

"The hardest part is to begin." he said.

"I don't think you believe that any more than I do." said Dean.

"I honestly do." said Cas, "You're afraid and your fear will diminish when you start to talk about it."

"To one of the few people whose opinion of me matters?"

"I already know what happened in Hell. Telling me is like talking to yourself about it.

"I don't even put it into words in my head." said Dean.

"And does it ever stop screaming at you?" said Cas.

"I find distractions." said Dean.

They looked at each other. Cas wondered what he could say to persuade Dean not to make another excuse and put it off for another week or month. Footsteps went past the door and Dean immediately tensed. His eyes warned Cas not to speak. Angels and nephilim had better hearing than humans and he didn't want Jack to ask any difficult questions. 

The footsteps had been gone for some time when Dean spoke again. "Look, I promised and I'll keep my promise, but not here, around Jack, Sam and Mom. We need to get away from the bunker."

Cas nodded. "No problem. Pick a place."

"Meet me in the garage after supper." said Dean, "We'll take your car. Sam will need the Impala."

"You hate my car." said Cas.

"I don't hate it. Your car is the thing I hate least about this whole thing." said Dean.

"What will you tell the others?" said Cas.

"Lies." said Dean.

"Even Sam?"

"No, not Sam."

"Thanks for doing this, Dean."

Dean's grim smile was anything but cheerful. "When I tell you the stuff I can't think about myself, you won't be thanking me. You'll probably never be able to look at me again."

"I promise you, I will."

"You really think this won't change our relationship?" said Dean, "I mean, like, forever?"

Cas smiled. "I can't say that."

"No." said Dean.

"I can promise it won't weaken it. It won't end it."

"You can't promise that." said Dean.

"I just did. I know what even agreeing to this cost you. I know how hard this is. You don't believe this will help you. You're doing this for Sam and for me."

"Yes." said Dean.

"And even though it feels like I'm pushing you somewhere you don't want to go, I'm doing it for you, because I believe it will help you and I would do anything to lessen the burden you carry."

"I know." said Dean, "I don't agree with you, but I know."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was in the kitchen, helping a small group to prepare supper. Several of their new bunkermates could cook and although meals might be a bit busier than the Winchesters were used to, they tended to involve much better food. For the refugees, the main improvement was the abundance of food and the lack of aerial bombardment whilst eating. Everyone was happy with the arrangement and Sam was enjoying having a bunker full of people and a useful role to play.

Dean came into the kitchen and said, "Supper is looking good so far."

"Yeah, we're using more than one pot." said Sam.

"Well, if that doesn't get us a Michelin star, I don't know what will." said Dean. He lowered his voice and said, "Sam, you got a minute?"

"Of course." said Sam.

Dean took his arm and propelled him from the room. They stopped in a quiet corridor and Dean said, "Where's Jack?"

"Library." said Sam, starting to worry, "What's happened with Jack?"

"Nothing. Jack's great. I just don't want anyone overhearing us."

"What's going on, Dean?" said Sam.

"Cas and I are going away. It might be just overnight, might be a few days. I don't know yet. I'll have my phone, so if anything happens, I can be back. I'll only be a few hours away."

Sam put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Dean, slow down. What's happened? If having all these people in the bunker ... "

"No! No, it's nothing like that." said Dean. His voice became a whisper, "Pact stuff."

Sam let go of Dean's shoulder and smiled. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I mean, we have to at some point, don't we? We both gave our word."

"Actually, I have already." said Sam, "When Cas and I could find time."

"He never told me."

"He promised to keep it confidential, didn't he?" said Sam.

Dean looked at him. "So you've already talked to him about that place?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. It's not easy. Well, you know it's not easy. To be honest, we've barely scratched the surface, but I think it really does help. He's a good listener. You're doing the right thing."

"Thanks, Sam, but doing the right thing never seems to be the same as doing the fun thing or the easy thing."

"No, I know." said Sam.

"Only you know the real reason. Nobody else needs to know."

Sam heard the words, "Especially Mom." that Dean did not say. "I won't say anything." he said.

"I feel bad, leaving you to handle things here alone."

"I'm not alone." said Sam, "In fact, I'm less alone than I have ever been and I have Bobby and Mom to help organise everyone."

"You're doing a great job." said Dean, "I'm proud of you."

"You taught me everything I know." said Sam.

Dean nodded. "Then I'm proud of me too. I brought you up okay, didn't I, Sam?"

"You did." said Sam. 

He could see that Dean was still uneasy about leaving with Cas, but he knew it wasn't about not trusting him to look after the bunker. He remembered how hard it had been for him to open up to Cas, how hard it still was and he knew that Dean found it far worse. Sam's Hell had been about torture, Dean's felt to him like the complete failure of all that he had believed himself to be.

"Where will you be?" said Sam.

"I told you. Just a phone call away." said Dean.

"Okay."

"Look after Jack."

"Of course I will."

"And if anything happens ... if you need us back here, call."

"I will, but I think we'll be fine for a few days. You just put this place out of your mind. Focus on ... "

"On Hell? Yeah, I think Cas is going to make sure I do." said Dean.

"On yourself." said Sam, "Trust me. Talking to Cas is going to help."

"It really helps you?" said Dean.

"Yes, it really does. Just not having to handle it alone helps."

"You know you could always have talked to me." said Dean.

"Yeah, no, I couldn't. About anything else, yes, but not that. Just like you can't talk to me. So, are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Tonight, after supper." said Dean. He still looked unhappy about it.

"Even if it doesn't help, you get some time away from everything else." said Sam.

"Yeah, kinda like a little vacation, but with an interrogation thrown in."

"It won't be like that. Cas isn't like that." said Sam.

"You know, it sounds weird, but I think I'd rather go back there than talk about it to Cas. But I gave my word, so I have to do it."

Sam understood. He wished he could do something to make it easier. Dean had gone into battles he believed were certain death with less trepidation. Cas was their best friend and Dean was more afraid of an honest conversation with him about Hell than he had ever been of death.

An idea came to him. "If you need me to need you back here, text 'Carthage' and I will manufacture a crisis."

Dean looked surprised, then he smiled. "You're a good kid, Sam."

"Not a kid." said Sam.

"Carthage, huh?"

"Memorable." said Sam. In Carthage, they had lost Ellen and Jo. It had to have been one of their worst defeats in a long, inglorious list of losses and the word carried a thousand layers of meaning for both of them. Sam knew Dean would not lightly use it, even to escape from something he dreaded, but he would also feel better, knowing there was a way out if he needed it.

Dean cleared his throat and said, "Anyway, I'm leaving the Impala here. We're taking Cas's car."

"The pimpmobile?" said Sam.

"Don't call it that." 

"You call it that."

"Just look after my car, dumbass." said Dean.

Sam smiled. "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

Cas sat down beside Jack in the library. "Dean and I are going away for a day or two." he said.

"Away where?" said Jack.

"I don't know yet. It's Dean's decision."

Jack looked at him, instantly suspicious. "Why do you need to go away?" he said.

"It's nothing to worry about." said Cas, "Dean and I made an agreement a long time ago and we haven't really had time to do anything about it and now we do."

"An agreement to do what?" said Jack.

"Just to talk about some stuff."

"What stuff?"

"You remember when I explained to you about things being confidential?" said Cas. He didn't want to lie to Jack, but Dean would not allow him to tell the truth.

"It's me, isn't it?" said Jack.

"No. I told you, this was agreed a long time ago, before you were born."

"So it's not because his nice, private bunker now contains Lucifer's son and a gang of complete strangers?" said Jack, "Because he doesn't look happy about it all the time."

"I promise, it's not that. Dean actually likes all our new friends and yes, he sometimes feels a little uneasy about having so many people around, but that's just because he's not much of a social moth."

"Butterfly." said Jack.

"Really?"

"Pretty sure." said Jack.

"That's strange, because moths are the ones that gather around lights. Butterflies really only meet to mate. Which is, when you think about it, actually a lot more like Dean." said Cas. He frowned, trying to remember what they had been talking about, before the detour into the social habits of lepidoptera. 

"Dean is awkward around people." he said. He thought for a moment and then said, "That's not actually true. He's great around people, awkward around people he cares about. So sometimes a gathering of people that matter to him can make him uncomfortable. He worries about screwing things up. And then there's Sam."

"Sam?" said Jack.

"Sam slips too easily back under Dean's shadow, so Dean sometimes feels like he is holding Sam back from assuming his natural leadership role."

"Oh." said Jack.

"So us going away has nothing to do with you or the others, but will give Sam a bit of time and space that may be very good for him."

"Sam always seems like a leader to me." said Jack, "I mean, Dean does too, but with Dean, there's always the feeling that he doesn't want the job. People follow him automatically and sometimes he just turns around and says, 'Why are you following me, you creepy stalkers?' Do you know what I mean?"

"I know exactly what you mean." said Cas. Jack was such an innocent and so unaware of the world, but people, he got, especially his odd little family. All the polite deceptions and camouflages tended not to work on Jack, because he had not grown up conforming to their use. There was a purity to his understanding that Cas hoped he would never lose. "I have been a leader too." he said, "I don't envy either of them the position."

"You were a good leader." said Jack. It wasn't a question. The boy's faith in him was heartening, if a little scary.

"I was very fallible." said Cas.

"Best kind of leader." said Jack, "It can't be easy to follow an infallible one."

Castiel smiled ruefully. "No, I can assure you it isn't."

"I'd follow you, Dean and Sam anywhere." said Jack.

"I hope my career in leadership is over." said Cas, "I'm content to follow the Winchesters."

"Then I am too." said Jack, "Because I'll follow you anywhere, whether you think you're a leader or not."

"Well, I can certainly tell you what mistakes to avoid. I have made them all." said Cas, "When I get back, I'll tell you my greatest hits. If nothing else, it will make you laugh."

"How long will you be gone?" said Jack.

"Not long." said Cas. He was well aware that Dean would not tolerate too much time "wasted" on the matter of his mental health. "Maybe a few days." he said.

Again, Jack was looking at him, those guileless eyes searching his soul, asking so many questions, none of which he felt able to answer.

"Is Dean okay?" he said.

"Dean is fine." said Cas, "Dean is always fine. Ask him."

Jack smiled. "I know he'd say he was fine."

"Yes." said Cas.

"I also know there's a lot on your mind. You don't think he's fine."

"Dean Winchester is one of the strongest men I know. I only know one stronger."

"Sam."

"Indeed."

"You can tell me anything." said Jack, "I care about Dean too."

"I know you do. It's a matter of confidentiality."

"Is Dean sick?" said Jack.

"No, nothing like that." said Cas, "Please don't ask me any more questions. Dean intends to make an excuse for our departure, but I didn't want there to be a lie between you and me, however innocent. I'm trusting you with as much information as I can without breaking faith with Dean. Do you understand?"

Jack was silent for a moment. "I understand." he said, "I'm glad you trust me."

"Sam will know the truth, Mary won't. It's very important that you say nothing to arouse Mary's suspicions. Dean will never forgive me if she finds out."

"Finds what out?" said Jack.

"Anything." said Cas.

"I won't say anything." said Jack.

"Good. I knew I was right to trust you."

"Just don't be gone too long. I'll miss you."

"We can keep in touch." said Cas, "But don't worry. It won't be long. You'll be fine here, with Sam and Mary and Bobby." Cas stood. "I'd better get ready. We'll be leaving after supper."

"Cas," said Jack, "Whatever it is that you're worried about, don't be. You and Dean can handle anything."

Cas patted Jack's shoulder. "Thanks, Jack. See you at supper."


	4. Chapter 4

Before he went to supper, Dean packed his stuff and loaded it into Castiel's car. It was never locked when in the garage and barely ever locked outside it. Dean thought that Cas had a lot of faith in the undesirability of the car and it was a faith that Dean did not consider wholly misplaced.

The car was crap.

Dean had cleaned it two days ago and he went over it now, performing all the routine checks that the car's owner should do, but never did. Half the time, Cas forgot to fill the tank. It wasn't deliberate neglect, just a lack of understanding. Cas didn't see the need to interfere with the car if it was working. Dean wished he took a similar view of his psyche, but there, Cas seemed to want to tinker all the time, even though it had a lot of mileage left in it before it was likely to come to a choking stop at the side of the road.

He could have taken the Impala. There were other cars Sam could use and with his babysitting duties concerning Jack and the offworlders, Sam was probably bunkerbound for the foreseeable anyway. Taking Castiel's car seemed a better idea, though. He would let Cas drive and that might stop Cas from starting the conversation too soon and if it didn't, he could always fake sleep. Harder to do that when driving. He also did it out of kindness to Cas, who was, after all, doing all he could to help him, even if that help was the last thing he wanted.

Anyway, weirdly, even to his way of thinking, he didn't want the Impala with him if he might fall apart or if he finally had to accept the fact that he had been utterly corrupted by Hell. She was clean, right, perfect. In a strange way, he felt protective of her innocence.

He felt good about telling Sam the truth. Lying to him never felt right. Even if he and Sam could not discuss their experience of Hell, they could discuss the experience of discussing Hell and that seemed like a step in the right direction. It was also good to know that Sam felt better for having spoken to Castiel about Hell. Dean didn’t believe for a second that he would, but at least it was helping Sam. Dean’s Hell was, after all, far more his own fault, his own failure, than Sam’s had been. Sam’s noble self-sacrifice was an underworld away from Dean’s self-serving corruption.

He didn’t know how the discussion would go. He had no idea how he would even begin it. Cas knew most of what had happened and the parts he didn’t know, Dean didn’t think he should know. There was one thing, the memory of which was so clear in his mind that the sharp edges seemed to slice any thought that came near it, leaving it bleeding into his soul. That thing, he could barely bring himself to look at directly. He certainly could not imagine ever wrapping words around it and putting it out into the world. How could he say it to Cas? How could he reveal the one dark corner that had never yet been revealed to the one person who saw him as all light?

The sensible thing would have been to talk about everything but that one thing. He could tell Castiel all the stuff he already knew, at length and in detail, rehearse the shame the angel dismissed as his self-loathing and keep silent on the one thing that would prove beyond doubt that he was truly fallen, lost and evil. Nice plan, except that he was afraid that if he once stopped holding back the flood, thinking to allow a trickle through, he would drown in the inundation that followed and everything he had been resisting would rush him at once and, far worse, rush Castiel. Then he could hide nothing and the eyes that had always judged him more kindly than he deserved would look at him in disgust.

Neither Sam nor Cas understood how real and terrible that fear was to him. He’d never really needed the world’s approval. He’d grown up with his father’s contempt for anyone else’s judgement on what they did. At first, he’d needed only his father’s respect and Sam’s. If they both thought well of him, he was fine. If they didn’t, he would try harder.

Then an angel of the Lord had, quite without his invitation or agreement, taken him out of Hell. Later, face to face with the holy warrior, he had felt worthless, pointless, pulled from a painful pit he had turned out to deserve by a being straight from the spotless halls of Heaven. Castiel had looked at him and he had shuddered under his gaze and somehow, Castiel had judged him worth caring about. The angel had become not just his rescuer, but his friend.

At a time when he saw nothing of value in himself at all, Cas had continued to speak to him as if he mattered, to care about him as if he had never made a mistake. The thought of him saying now, ‘No, I was wrong, you really aren’t worth my time.’ was more than Dean could bear. He had spent so much of his life avoiding attachment, knowing that friendship was temporary, at best and now he needed Cas to believe in him, even ... especially, when he could not believe in himself.

Cas promised their relationship was not in danger. He wished he could believe that. Facing the Hell conversation would have been so much easier if he could have been sure that it would not convince Cas that he belonged in Hell.


	5. Chapter 5

Most meals in the bunker were grabbed by individuals as they had time, but Mary had suggested that when possible, Friday night’s supper should be a shared meal, a chance for everyone to get together, talk and bond. It was working well, the library made a good dining room and the happy bustle of the place made for a congenial atmosphere. 

Castiel watched the pleasant scene without really engaging with it. The apocalypse survivors saw him as an exception to the rule that angels were the enemy, but it was still a slightly disconcerting thing, to be surrounded by people who said things like, “And it dropped like a napalmed angel”. He understood, he really did, but the apologies and blushing and awkwardness did not diminish the feeling that he was an outsider and not really trusted.

Dean helped to carry the food in and then went around the table filling glasses. He smiled and joked with everyone as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Cas watched him, knowing that his thoughts were far from calm and half expecting him to say he had thought of a pressing reason not to leave the bunker. When Dean met his gaze, though, it was with a calm nod, underlining, not undermining his promise.

When Dean made it to him, he filled his glass with wine and said, “You look worried.”

“Are you ready to leave after this?” said Cas.

“Yes, my stuff is in the car.”

“Mine is in my pocket.” said Cas.

“You always travel light.” said Dean.

Mary heard the word “travel” and looked up. “Are you going somewhere, Castiel?” she said.

“We both are.” said Dean. “Bobby ... our Bobby, I mean dead Bobby ... ”

“Yeah, got it.” said Bobby, “Not me.”

“Sorry, it’s just weird.” said Dean.

“Yeah, for me too.” said Bobby.

“Anyway, he had some cabins scattered around for the use of hunters. Cas and I thought we’d start checking supplies in the cabins, make sure the lights and water are working, that kind of thing.”

Cas was surprised that she didn’t notice the slight rise in the tone of his voice, the tiny tremor that hinted at a lie, but she had not spent over a decade listening to him lie. She had no idea of the signs that were so clear to him.

“Good idea.” she said, “How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure.” said Dean, “A day or two. I’ll leave the Impala here, for Sam. We’ll take Cas’s car.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “You’re leaving the Impala?”

“Sam might need it. All I’m doing is checking some cabins.” said Dean. He sat between Mary and Cas with his food.

Mary glanced at Cas. He hoped she wouldn’t ask any awkward questions. At the other end of the table, Jack and Maggie were laughing about something. “Jack looks happy.” he said to Mary.

She looked at Jack and smiled. “It’s good for him to have company of his own age. Well, you know what I mean.”

Cas nodded. “Everyone seems to be settling in well and I think having them around will be good for Jack. In the wider world, he has to conceal who and what he is. Here, he doesn’t need to.”

“Does he know you’re going away?” asked Mary.

“Yes, I’ve explained it to him.” said Cas.

“I’d better tell the others.” said Dean. He raised his voice. “Castiel and I are going away for a day or two. It’s basic maintenance stuff, so we won’t need any help, but we’ll have our cellphones with us, so if you need us, call us.”

“I think we may be able to survive a couple of days without you.” said Bobby.

“I’m sure you can.” said Dean, “We’ll be leaving straight after supper. Sam, do not go into my room. Mom, make sure Sam doesn’t go into my room. Jack, tell Mom if Sam goes into my room.”

“Any instructions for me?” said Bobby.

“Yeah, if Sam goes in my room, break his legs.”

There was general laughter. Dean returned his attention to his food.

Mary smiled, but there was still an odd look in her eyes and she glanced at Cas again. He smiled at her. That didn’t seem to allay her concerns. “Is something wrong?” she said to Dean.

“Wrong?” he said.

“You seem anxious.” she said.

“Nah. I’m just tired of being in the bunker. I need some unfiltered air and the open road.”


	6. Chapter 6

At the car, Cas hesitated, unsure which side to head for. He looked at Dean, who gestured to the driver’s door. “Get in, Cas. We should get going.”

“You don’t want to drive?” said Cas.

“No. You never get to drive. Must be your turn.”

“Plus you hate my car.”

“I don’t hate your car.” said Dean. They got into the car.

“Where are we going?” said Cas.

“I’ll navigate.” said Dean. For a moment, his expression seemed distant and troubled, then it softened. “Sorry. We’re heading for one of Bobby’s cabins, as I told them. It’s secluded, quiet and a long way from anywhere. A good sort of place to get lost and forget everything.” He looked into Castiel’s eyes and added, “And to remember stuff you really don’t want to.”

Cas started the car. “Do you want some music?”

Dean’s reply surprised him. “No, I want to talk.”

“About anything in particular?”

“About you, Cas.”

They set off into the night, guided by Dean’s brief and simple directions and had left Lebanon behind them before Cas said, “What about me?”

“Exactly.” said Dean, “What about you? You’ve been adrift from Heaven for some time and I know you still want to restore it and you’ll still do anything you can for the few angels that are left, but isn’t there anything you want for yourself?”

“Metatron wanted things for himself and that didn’t end well.” said Cas.

“You’re not Metatron.” said Dean.

Cas had to smile at the certainty in Dean’s voice, even though he knew that Cas had done more harm than Metatron, if for more noble reasons. “I think a simple life is best. Least likely to do harm, you know?”

“Angels don’t forget, do they?” said Dean.

“Forget what?”

“Any of it. The pain, the mistakes, the guilt. Human pain fades, but I don’t think yours does. You’re paralysed by the memories of the mistakes you made, terrified of repeating them. You’re more damaged than I am and yet you want to waste time helping me.”

“Are you saying this to change my mind about that?” said Cas. The words hurt. He needed to know if the infliction of pain could be intentional.

“I’m just trying to understand.” said Dean.

Castiel remembered the Winchester Pact and the promises he had made, including the one that said he would tell Sam and Dean when their words hurt him, as they did not always know what could. He looked at Dean, then back at the road. Dean might be sincere or he might be trying to make Cas back down from trying to get him to talk about Hell.

“What?” said Dean.

“Dean, the things you’re saying, they’re hard for me to hear. Maybe they’re true. Maybe I am paralysed, but ...”

“Aw, Hell, Cas. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just mean that I want you to want things, to hope, to dream, to formulate a plan for your life that’s better and more glorious than hauling Dean Winchester out of a lifetime of self-pity.”

“And I’m more damaged than you?” said Cas.

“Maybe we’re both just screwed in the head. Maybe that’s why we get along so well. I’m sorry I said those things. I don’t mean damaged. I mean wounded. You’ve been through stuff I can’t imagine.”

“We’ve both been ground to dust, Dean.” said Cas, “I think we’ve both found out what really matters and it’s family. I don’t lack ambition or dreams. I want to guide Jack, so his life, his powers, can do something wonderful. I want my son to succeed in life, to be happy. I want you and Sam to be part of my life and part of his. I want my family to be happy. Does that seem like a small thing to you? Do you think that’s not aiming high enough?”

“No, that sounds pretty good to me.” said Dean, “Okay, put on some music.”

Cas did and he saw Dean’s scowl. “You don’t like it?” he said.

“It’s fine. It’s not Def Leppard, but it’s fine.”

“I like the New Seekers.” said Cas.

“No wonder you and Sam are such good friends. How did I end up surrounded by hippies?”

“You attract us with your sweet, flower child aura.” said Cas.

Dean smiled at him. “You know, I brought a gun, a knife and an angel blade.”

Cas turned off the music. Dean immediately turned it back on. “Driver picks the music, always.”

“You never let Sam pick the music, even when he drives.”

“Hey, he should be grateful that I let him drive.”

“So why exactly are you letting me drive?” said Cas.

Dean was quiet. He stared out of the side window.

“Dean?”

“Honestly?” he said, “Because I don’t think I could do it. We’re heading for the last place I want to be, to do the last thing I want to do. If I had my foot on the brake, we wouldn’t go another mile.” 

Cas pulled over to the side of the road. “If you really can’t do this, we can go back and forget it for now.” He couldn’t put Dean under that kind of pressure.

“I promised.”

“I didn’t ever intend to torture you more.” said Cas.

“Just drive.” said Dean.

“I could put you to sleep for the journey.” said Cas. The offer was a risky one. Dean was not generally a fan of being “zapped” to sleep. “Of course,” he added, “I’ll need you to tell me where we’re going first.”

Dean got out his phone and showed Cas. “If you have any trouble, wake me.”

“I’ve navigated through the galaxy with nothing but magnetic fields to follow.” said Cas.

“Yeah, but the roads can be weird.” said Dean.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was woken by a light touch on his shoulder and Cas saying his name. He found the key hidden under a rock near the door. Once he had the door open and a light on, he fetched his things from the car. A fire was already prepared in the fireplace and he only had to light it. As the first flames spread through the kindling, he turned to look at Cas, who was just closing the door.

“Lock it.” said Dean.

“You’re expecting trouble?” said Cas.

“No,” said Dean, “I just want something to slow me down if I think of running.”

“Maybe you should get some rest.” said Cas, locking the door.

“No, I rested all the way here. I think we should talk about Hell.”

“You’re ready to do that?”

“Cas, I am never gonna be ready. What we have here is a moment when I have no excuse to avoid it, so let’s grab this window of opportunity.” He sat on the thick rug in front of the fire. Castiel chose the old armchair nearby.

“I know this is hard.” said Cas.

“Yeah, well, everything we do is hard, that’s why nobody else wants to do it.” said Dean. He watched the young fire flickering as it grew. “You didn’t tell me Sam had already done this.”

“I promised both of you I would not tell the other anything.” said Cas, “For that reason, I’m not going to say what we discussed.”

“No. I wouldn’t ask it.” said Dean, although he would have, had he thought Cas might be willing to say. “How do you start, though?” he said, “What do you want to talk about?”

“Ideally, the things you least want to tell me.” said Cas, “But let’s start with something easier. What comes to mind when you think of Hell?”

Dean thought about it for a while, his eyes fixed on the flames. “The smell.” he said, “I don’t know if you remember the smell, but it was ... well, think of the most disgusting place you’ve ever been and add a thousand corpses, rotting in a blocked sewer. The air was so thick, you could almost bite a lump off and chew it, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He felt something in his throat, the heat from the fire or the memory of breathing that poisonous air. Maybe his throat just wanted him to stop talking. He wanted to stop talking. He looked at Cas. “Do you remember the smell?”

“I arrived encased in light and fire.” said Castiel, “Raphael protected us. I didn’t have to breathe the air.”

“Most smells, here in the living world, fade when you get used to them. You barely notice even the worst, after a time, but there, the smell stays fresh and shocking and pungent, for decades. Even now, I can remember every bit of flavour in that smell. I remember the mess too. The place where they kept me had blood everywhere, old and dry or slick and fresh. Still warm, sometimes. I slipped on it a lot. I once fell and put a knife through my own hand when I was ... when I ... ” His voice trailed away.

“When you were torturing someone else?” said Cas.

“The son of a bitch laughed.” said Dean, “I would have too. I think that’s why it made me so angry. It reminded me that he was a person, like me. I cut him more deeply, more cruelly, because he laughed at me. This is dark stuff, Castiel. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Want may be the wrong word.” said Cas, “But you need to say it aloud and I seem to be the only one you can say it to.”

“When I told Sam about the torture, he felt sorry for me. There I was, confessing to doing terrible, sick, evil things and he was making excuses for me. I felt like he was becoming corrupted just by being around me.”

“I’ve inflicted torture.” said Cas, “I had none of your excuses.”

“You were under the command of Heaven. You thought it was righteous.” said Dean. He turned from the fire for a moment to look into the angel’s eyes.

“No,” said Cas, “In my heart, I think I always knew it wasn’t.”

Dean looked into the fire again. He felt the weight of a lifetime of bad decisions, of inflicting harm on others, sometimes by choice, sometimes not. He remembered smiling at the suffering he caused in Hell, seeing that smile reflected back in the curved edge of a blade. “You were nothing like me, Cas.” he said, his voice shaking, “Whenever you tortured someone, you hurt yourself more.”

“You’re still torturing yourself.” said Cas.

“No.” said Dean, “I love you for trying, but you can’t spin this into something better. I hurt people and I liked it and I am more of a monster than anything I ever hunted.”

“That isn’t true.” said Cas, “Only a righteous man could break the first seal.”

Dean looked at him and said bitterly, “You mean like how angels can only use a vessel with consent, but if they get the consent by threatening someone, it still counts? I find these things tend to be pretty fluid in their interpretations. Besides, we’ve established that Heaven’s idea of righteousness can be monstrous.” His eyes went back to the fire. “If I put a bullet through my head, I’d make the world a cleaner place.”

“No!” said Cas, getting up from his chair.

“I didn’t say I would do it.” said Dean, “How could I do it? What would that do to Sam and Mom?”

Cas sat on the floor in front of him, trying to intercept his gaze. “Dean, listen to me, monsters don’t feel this way. Monsters don’t spend years hating themselves for hurting people.”

Dean’s right hand curled into a fist as he stared through Cas. He couldn’t look into the eyes of the best friend he had ever had. The words Cas were saying were just intended to make him feel better. They meant no more than that.

Cas spoke louder, still trying to make eye contact. “I have never, in all my life, met anyone else as good as you. I have never known anyone so quick to sacrifice his happiness, life and soul for somebody else - anybody else. There is nobody in this world I more want to be like. There is nobody whose judgement on any ethical question I trust more than yours and Sam’s. That pain searing your soul right now is not the deserved punishment of an evil man, but the grief and shame of a man who never, even in the midst of Hell, stopped being a good one.”

A tear escaped Dean’s eye and rolled down his cheek, cool on the fire-warmed skin. He risked one look into Castiel’s eyes and then bowed his head. “Find someone else to believe in.” he said.

He felt the angel’s hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been saying that to me from the beginning.”

Dean smiled joylessly, “You never listen.”

The hand gripped more tightly. “Makes two of us.” said Cas, “Look at me, Dean.”

Uneasily, Dean looked up. Castiel’s eyes were sympathetic, but he felt as he had with Sam all those years ago, that it was not a sign of his goodness, but of his power to corrupt others.

“If Sam had been through what you went through and done as you did, you would not condemn him like this.” said Cas.

“Sam would have held out.” said Dean.

“Like he did with Ruby?”

Dean suddenly backed away and stood up. “Don’t ever blame Sam for what happened!”

“You did.” said Cas.

“Yes and I was wrong. Just leave Sam out of this. He was a kid. He made mistakes. He was Azazel’s victim.”

“You were Alistair’s.” said Cas, getting to his feet.

“Alistair always said I would crumble and surrender.” said Dean.

“Of course he did. What did you expect him to say, that you’d hold out forever and avert the Apocalypse?”

“He was right.”

“He was an expert torturer who knew how to break a man.”

“I think I was born broken.”

“He made you think that, with help from your father.” said Cas.

“You never knew my father.” said Dean.

“No, but I’ve known you a long time.”

More tears began to flow. Dean looked at his best friend and said, “I hate you.”

“I know.” said Cas, “Right now, you hate everyone, yourself most of all.”

“Go to Hell.” said Dean.

Cas stepped closer. “As many times as I have to, to bring you out.”

“It’s where I belong.” said Dean.

Cas hugged him. “No, you belong here, with us, your family.”

Dean wanted to pull away and break stuff, to yell at the angel to leave him alone, but instead, he clung to Cas. In a voice he barely recognised as his own, he said, “Help me, Cas.”

Cas hugged him tightly. “Always.” he said, “It’s what brothers are for.”


	8. Chapter 8

Sam was in the library, making use of his sleeplessness to go through the list of essential supplies for his suddenly expanded family of hunters. It was necessary work and he gave it as much concentration as he could, but he was tired and his attention often wandered to thoughts of Dean and whether he could really talk to Cas about any of what happened in Hell. 

He had found it difficult himself. Even knowing that Cas would never be hurt by what he said like Dean would, it felt wrong to talk about the horror of it all to anyone who didn’t need to know. At first, he had barely been able to speak, but Cas had a way of listening that made it hard not to. His first halting words on the subject had been met with understanding and encouragement and he had gone on to say more. They still skirted the edges of the bad stuff, but with every conversation, talking about it became a little easier and he felt a little less alone.

He hoped Dean would be able to talk. He knew it was harder for Dean, partly because he had become a torturer in Hell, whereas Sam could tell himself he had just been a victim and partly because Dean was Dean. He would never see it as a priority to seek any kind of help from anyone. To Dean, talking about his problems was wallowing in them and he had nothing but contempt for wallowers in self pity.

Jack came into the library. “Are you busy?” he said.

Sam smiled. “It’s late, Jack. Or early. Don’t you ever rest?”

“Not often.” said Jack, “And neither do you.” He sat opposite Sam. “I know you know where Dean and Cas went and why.”

“Why, not where.” said Sam.

“I also know you won’t tell me.” said Jack, “Castiel explained. It’s something confidential.”

“Yes, it is.” said Sam. He felt sorry for Jack. The kid was an outsider in so many ways but was so desperate to be part of the family. It was hard to believe that he was Lucifer’s kid, but then, he was a lot more like his chosen family than like his selfish, petulant father. Sam could not bear any reminder of Lucifer, but there was nothing in Jack to remind him of his father. There was more of Castiel in the boy. 

“I just want to say, if I can do anything to help, I want to. And I don’t need to know all the details. Just tell me if there’s anything any of you needs.

Sam put his inventory aside and said, “Thanks, Jack. You’re a good kid.”

“You’ve been good to me,” said Jack, “All of you. I know something’s wrong and I know it’s something with Dean and Castiel says it’s not because of me or the others.”

“It’s old stuff.” said Sam.

“I know. I won’t ask any more questions. I just want you to know that I’m here. And if you need anyone else distracted from asking questions, I can do that.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to keep Mom busy for a few days.” said Sam, “She’s not easily fooled and Dean needs her kept out of this.”

“Great. I can ask her a lot of questions. I’ll do anything to help. Literally anything.”

“I know you will.” said Sam, “Don’t worry about all the stuff we can’t talk about, because none of it applies to you. One day, maybe we’ll be able to talk about all of it.”

“Castiel says Winchesters are complicated.” said Jack.

“That’s one word for it.” said Sam.

“The three of you went through a lot of stuff before I knew you.” said Jack.

“I think you could say that, yes.” said Sam.

“And what you can tell me, I probably wouldn’t understand.”

“Give it time. You’ll get to know all about us eventually.”

“I know the stuff that matters. I know I can trust you.” said Jack.

“Yes, you can and we know we can trust you, Jack. Which is why Cas told you more than he told anyone else.”


	9. Chapter 9

Dean splashed his face with water at the kitchen sink. He was glad there was no mirror to show him what a mess he was. Cas was standing just feet away and he could not turn to look at him. He grabbed a towel hanging from a cupboard door and dried his face, wishing he could wipe away his lapse into tears so easily.

“Do you need a break?” said Cas behind him.

Dean shook his head, still not turning around. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. Is this how you expected this to go?”

“If I say yes, you’ll think I wanted you to suffer like this and if I say no, you’ll think I didn’t think it through.” said Cas.

“You never give me a straight answer.” said Dean.

“I tried not to have too many expectations of how it would go.” said Cas, “I wish I could give you whatever answer you want to hear, but I don’t seem to have that talent. Do you want me to give you some time alone?”

Dean thought about it. It sounded appealing, to a degree, but not safe. He felt as if his life were spinning around him in a tornado and the only fixed point in the chaos was Castiel. “No.” he said.

There was silence behind him. He knew Cas was trying to find something to say that would help in any way and he wished he could help him to do it or at least control his own reactions enough that Cas would not see that it made things worse when he showed him kindness or understanding.

“I’m okay.” he said and the lie, he knew, only made things worse for both of them.

“I don’t think there’s anyone for miles out there.” said Cas, “We could take a walk.”

Dean nodded. There was something very desirable about a dark forest and all its distractions. “Sounds good.” he said.

Cas went to the door and opened it. He didn’t linger in the doorway. Dean felt bad at how obviously he did not want the angel to see his face, but he was grateful that Cas was being so careful not to look at him.

Outside, they started walking, Cas at his side, not making eye contact or conversation. He hoped that Cas didn’t feel blamed or guilty. He wanted to tell him that he didn’t blame him, but the words boiling around in his head did not seem to be in a cooperative mood. The cool air on his face was soothing and the quiet sounds of nature seemed much more likely to help the situation than any attempt at speech.

They took a path that was a little overgrown. The trees creaked as the night breezes moved them and the earth around them gave off a pleasant scent, reminiscent of so many woodland hikes with Bobby and Sam. Dean risked a look at Castiel and then looked quickly away. He could not read Castiel’s expression, hidden as it was, in shadow and did not want him to return the look.

They walked on in silence, occasionally stumbling over a tree root or other obstacle, hidden by the darkness. Dean wondered whether Cas despised him for his weakness. He was not happy with it himself. It felt ridiculous that he could not even speak about Hell for one night without becoming a sobbing wreck.

He remembered the hug, an impulsive moment of empathy and compassion. Aside from his brother. he had rarely received much affection of that kind and he could not easily admit, even to himself, how much he had needed it. He wished he had the kind of personality that made it easy to express thanks or love or any of the other feelings that his friend’s kindness awoke in him, but his was not an upbringing that had encouraged emotional display. “Cas ... ” he began, but as they turned to look at each other, the words he had meant to say died in his throat.

Very quietly, so quietly that he could have pretended not to have heard, Cas said, “I’m sorry that we left you in Hell for so long.”

“Not your fault.” said Dean quickly.

“Nevertheless ... ”

“No, Cas, not your fault.” said Dean. He would not let Cas bear that burden too. They were facing each other now and in the dim light of approaching dawn, he could see that Cas was deeply troubled. “I know.” he said, “I’m weaker than you thought. I seem to disappoint everyone.”

“You’ve never been weak.” said Castiel, “What happened back there was not weakness. You overcame your fears and you talked about Hell.”

“And cried like a baby.” said Dean.

“Did you even cry when you were a baby?” said Cas, “Your strength is the problem. I wish you were weak. You can hold this stuff in forever. Even now, I can feel you trying to bury it again and it scares me, because when it’s all buried at the back of your mind, it festers and it burns and there is no other voice to argue with it. I need you to say it so that I can argue with it. If I argue well enough, the time may come when you stop listening to the lies spawned in Hell and believe better things about yourself.”

They started walking again. The path sloped upwards and they followed it. “I wish I could be the person you think I am,” said Dean, “Or even the person Sam thinks I am.”

“Why do you assume your harsh judgement on yourself is the right one?” said Cas.

“I know myself.” said Dean.

“I don’t think that you do.” said Cas.

“There are things about Hell even you don’t know.” said Dean, hoping he did not have to go into detail and talk about a particular victim who had opened his eyes to a darker side than Cas had seen.

“Tell me all of them.” said Cas.

Dean shook his head. “Right now, that doesn’t seem like a good idea.” he said.

They came to the top of a small rise. Both stopped to admire the view. The first golden light of the sunrise was spreading across the horizon and birdsong was rippling across the woodland and the fields beyond. “This world may have its imperfections,” said Cas, “But the sunrises are magnificent.”

“Yes,” said Dean, “Yes, they are.”


	10. Chapter 10

Earth had always been beautiful to Castiel. Long before man had evolved, he had come to love the seas and the skies and the glorious displays of light and shade as one day became another. As he and Dean found a large rock to sit on to watch the sunrise, his memories of other sunrises showed him that in at least one area, the world’s author had never run out of originality.

He watched the silver streaks interlacing the gold and saw peach clouds lighting up as the sun began a slow ascent. It seemed almost too beautiful a gift to a very fallen angel, but then, so was the friendship he had with Sam and Dean Winchester. He turned to look at the latter’s face, which seemed at peace, for a moment, looking at the birth of a new morning.

“At times like this,” said Castiel, “I’m reminded why we keep saving this world.”

Dean smiled. “It’s easy to wonder, at other times, huh? The truth is, I never thought, when we started out, that I’d end up watching a sunrise with an angel of the Lord, while my brother organised the survivors of another world’s apocalypse in our top secret bunker with our no-longer-dead Mom.”

“How did you think you’d end up?” said Cas.

“I thought at first it would just be a matter of revenge. Mom’s killer ganked, what was left of the family together for a nice, normal life. Then, later, I thought it would end bloody and a lot sooner than this. Nothing is what I thought it would be, but right now, things are better than I expected, better than I deserve.”

“For saving the world once, you deserve all the good stuff.” said Cas, “And you have saved it a lot more often than that.”

Dean shrugged and watched the landscape below. After a while, he took his phone from his pocket and said, “Can you look after this for me for now?”

Cas took it. “Of course.” he said. He looked at the screen and saw a text saved, ready to send. “What’s Carthage?” he said, “Apart from a battle site, an ancient kingdom and the place where we lost Ellen and Jo?”

Dean looked him in the eye, reminding him how little he had done that through the long night. “Sam’s idea. He told me to text him that if I wanted him to manufacture a reason to call us back home.”

“He’s clever.” said Cas, seeing at once why Sam had chosen that codeword.

“Too damn clever.” said Dean, “Gives me a way out, but makes sure I can’t use it.”

“Because to use it, you have to use a word that reminds you of two people who never took the easy way out of anything.”

“Yeah. Using it would be an insult to Ellen and Jo and he knew I couldn’t do it.”

“So why give me the phone?”

“Because I don’t trust myself not to use it.” said Dean.

“I’d like to make an observation.” said Cas.

“Go ahead.” said Dean, looking at a stand of trees in a field as the sunlight encased them in gold.

“Since we set off last night, all you have done is block off escape routes you could have used. You told people we were going away. We took my car. You let me drive. You told me to lock the door to make it harder for you to walk out. You gave me your phone. None of those are the actions of a weak man. You have systematically burned every bridge. You have forced yourself to be here and to be honest with me.”

“More a recognition of my weakness than a sign of strength.” said Dean, “Every instinct is screaming at me to do whatever it takes to stop this.”

“And yet you choose not to.” said Cas.

“I gave my word and this matters to you and Sam.”

“And it’s still about that?” said Cas, “About us needing it, not about the possibility that it might help you?”

“I don’t think it can help me. I don’t think I can be helped.”

“Or that you deserve to be?”

“Well, that’s certainly debatable.” said Dean.

Cas looked at him, wondering again how he could see himself so differently when all anyone else could see was a selfless, courageous man who repeatedly gave everything for others, not caring what happened to himself.

“How many sacrifices do you have to make? How many times do you have to save the world? What more do you need to do to expiate your sins?” said Cas.

Dean’s eyes travelled along the horizon before he answered. “Don’t you think my sins are beyond expiation? Yeah, they’ve definitely passed their expiation date. I tortured souls in Hell, Cas. Nothing I do up here can ever make up for that.”

“What about all the souls you’ve saved?” said Cas.

“A drop in the ocean. I tortured more than I will ever be able to save.”

“I suppose it doesn’t help to point out that those souls were in Hell for a reason.” said Cas.

“I never asked why they were there. I’m sure I’m not the only one who went there to save someone else. I never asked. I never cared. They brought me someone who ...” He stopped talking. He stood. “We should go back.”

“Dean?” said Cas, “What were you going to say?”

“It’s not important. I tortured lots of people.”

“Then why mention that one?” said Cas.

“Can we just drop it?” said Dean, “Let’s go back.”

“Let’s stay a while. I won’t ask about that one again now. We can just sit here and enjoy the dawn.”

Dean sat back down. “Okay.” he said. He seemed a lot more wary and anxious. Cas knew that the thing he had almost said was something he desperately needed to get off his chest, but he also knew that he had no prospect of getting him to say more about that right now. 

He decided to steer the conversation to something less painful. “When we do go back, I’ll get you some breakfast.”

“Yay! Old cans from Bobby’s time or, worse, C-rations from Rufus.” said Dean.

“If you like.” said Cas, “Or we could have the food Sam boxed up for us last night.”

Dean smiled. “I can almost forgive him for Carthage.”

“He did that from the best of intentions.” said Cas.

Dean nodded. “He was right to do it. I have to see this thing through.”

“Because you gave your word?”

“Yes and because I owe you and Sam. Besides, if I stop talking, so will he and he says it’s actually helping him.”

“But it’s not helping you?” said Cas, “Not at all?”

“I know you want me to say it is.”

“Just tell me the truth.” said Cas, “If it’s not helping, maybe we can change things and it will.”

Dean looked at him with pity. “Cas, I can’t be helped. You and Sam, you want to mend all the broken parts and be left with a fully healed Dean Winchester, but that can’t happen.”

“Why not?” said Cas.

“Because Dean Winchester was crushed to dust long before he got to Hell. That’s all he is, dust, held together with blood, not all of it his own and his stubborn refusal to be blown away by the wind. There’s nothing left to fix. There’s nobody left to save. Dean Winchester died when he held his dead brother in his arms.”

“Your brother is very much alive because of what you did for him.” said Cas.

A light seemed to come into Dean’s eyes for the first time in hours. “Yes, he is. Doesn’t that seem worth a lost soul? Whatever I had to suffer, whatever suffering is yet to come, it was worth it. Sammy made it. And you know what? Faced with the same choice, knowing everything I know now, I would still make that deal. I would still willingly go to Hell if it meant he got to live.”

Cas looked down at the ground, wishing he could make Dean hear himself and understand. “You paid that price, Dean.” he said, “Do you really feel as if you have to keep paying it?”

“Well, technically, I signed on for eternity.” said Dean. He put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I got off lightly. Here I am, free and alive, with an angel for a friend and my own room in the Batcave. So I have some bad memories. So what? The people I care about are safe and I get to be with them.”

Cas looked at him and shook his head. “Everything you suffered was for love of Sam. Doesn’t that mean you’re a good person?”

Dean let go of his shoulder. “The moment I picked up that knife and cut that woman, I stopped being a good person, if I ever was one.”

“Am I evil to you, because I tortured and killed?” said Cas.

“You had no choice.” said Dean.

“I had as much choice as you did.” said Cas.

“I wish you could see it isn’t your job to wash this filthy soul white again.”

“I wish you could see how brightly your soul still shines.”

“I think you’re seeing your own light and mistaking it for mine.” said Dean.


	11. Chapter 11

They were soon back at the cabin and Dean watched Castiel as he fried eggs, bacon, sausages and mushrooms. The smell was wonderful. “Thanks for doing that.” he said, “But you know you don’t have to do it, right? I can make my own breakfast.”

“I know.” said Cas.

“I’m actually pretty good at looking after myself.” said Dean.

“I know.” said Cas again, “You’ve been doing it for a very long time. I just thought maybe you’d like someone else to look after you for a change.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that. The truth was, it did feel good. Despite all the difficulty of the Hell stuff, since their arrival at the cabin, he had felt cared for in a way that rarely seemed to apply to him. He wished he knew a way to express gratitude that didn’t sound like he was admitting to a need. He felt bad even thinking like that. He wondered why confessing to needing kindness and from Cas, of all people, felt so unacceptable. They had gone through so much together, but saying that he needed Castiel’s friendship seemed wrong.

Wrong was the wrong word. It seemed unreasonable, greedy and demanding. He wanted an angel, the best of angels, to care about him. The angel was cooking him breakfast and most people would have considered that incredible good fortune. To acknowledge that it was more than a mere meal, more than an act of courtesy, to say even to himself that it sprang from affection and devotion ... well, it felt like he was asking for something he didn’t deserve and could never earn. Even as he thought that, he felt stupid. The friendship existed. It was real. Acknowledging it was not arrogance, but honesty.

A lifetime of putting himself last was still hard to cast aside. He felt he should be telling Cas not to concern himself with the needs of a human who was more trouble than he was worth. He was wary of such thoughts, though. At times, he felt an almost overwhelming urge to drive Cas away and he knew it came entirely from his fear that he was unworthy of such a friend and worried that he never gave enough in return. He wished he could make the jumble of thoughts in his head coherent enough to explain them to Cas.

Cas put the prepared meal on the table. “We have coffee, orange juice, whisky, vodka or something red in a bottle under the sink that may or may not be alcohol.” he said.

“Orange juice, please, but don’t tell Sam.” said Dean.

Cas smiled and poured a glass. “Nothing that happens here goes beyond these walls.” he said.

“Oh that is a dangerous policy.” said Dean, “I could tell you a load of stuff about Sam and you’d have to pretend you didn’t know. And some of the stuff I could tell you is stuff you’re gonna wanna bring up.”

Cas sat opposite him. “I hope the food is good.”

“All fried things are good.” said Dean, between mouthfuls, “One of us should call Sam later. If we don’t, he’ll get worried and call and I don’t want him calling unexpectedly at a bad time, like when we’re discussing Hell and I’m as much of a mess as I was last night.”

“I thought you did well last night.” said Cas.

“Yeah, I had all that counsellor crap when I was a kid. ‘You did great just now, Dean, tell me about your Mom.’ Dad threatened one of them for asking me about her.”

“Why were they interested in Mary?” said Cas.

“They thought I hadn’t handled her death well. One told Dad I was pretending not to remember her much so he didn’t get upset.”

“Were you?”

Dean thought about it. “Maybe. I know I didn’t talk much about her around him or Sam. Teachers kept getting weird about it. In two or three schools, they just got it into their heads that I had some kind of trauma related to her death. Of course, every time they said anything to Dad, he’d freak out thinking they were going to split the family. He said to me once, ‘You need to fit in more. Be friendlier. Talk more. If you don’t, they’ll take you and Sammy away and we’ll never see each other again.’ I was a clever kid. I saw a few counsellors and I figured out the right answers to give. Next one said I was the most well-adjusted kid she’d ever met.”

Cas was looking troubled.

“It’s okay, Cas. Long time ago. I just didn’t know how to play the game then, but once I did, we were safe.”

“And you’ve been playing the game ever since.” said Cas.

Dean nodded. “Playing and winning.” he said, “I can be whatever I need to be.”

“Can you be you?” said Cas.

Dean smiled, understanding why Cas looked so worried. “I can.” he said, “With you, with Mom, with Sam, with Jody, I can.”

“That’s gratifying.” said Cas, “I’m glad you feel you can be yourself with me.”

Dean felt bad. He wasn’t being himself with Castiel. He was keeping his distance and playing the game, because if people knew him they could a) reject him and b) control him and Cas was not intending to do either.

He looked at the food on the plate and then up to meet his friend’s eyes. “This is just delicious.” he said, wishing he could offer a less coded declaration that he understood what the meal meant and that he desperately needed such signs of love and support.

Castiel smiled. “You keep saying I’m your brother.” he said.

“You are.” said Dean.

“I’m a lot older than you. I think an older brother should look after a younger one. I know a brother who has looked after his little brother all his life. I learned from him, how to be a good brother.”

Dean looked at Cas, who had just made himself incredibly vulnerable and who feared rejection every bit as much as Dean always had. “Castiel,” he said, “I don’t think you had anything to learn.”

“Dean, I think you’ve taught me everything I know that was worth knowing.” said Cas.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack was doing a great job of keeping Mary busy. He had an inexhaustible supply of intelligent questions that she was eager to answer and he had lured her away to the library and out of Sam’s way.

Sam was with Maggie at the firing range and he was impressed with her skill. She didn’t always get a fatal shot in, but she rarely missed the target altogether. “You’re doing well.” he said.

“Thanks.” she said, “It helps to be able to practice in non-lethal situations.”

“Yeah, I like those too.” said Sam. His phone rang. “Carry on.” he said, “I’ll get this outside.” He went to his room, answering the call on the way. “Dean?” he said.

“You’re on speaker.” said Dean, “So none of your comments about Cas’s coat, okay?”

“When did I ever ... ” 

“I think he’s joking.” said Cas.

“So, you two are together and joking, so things are okay?” said Sam.

“Things are okay.” said Dean, “I thought you’d want to know that. How’s everything your end?”

“Jack is keeping Mom occupied.” said Sam, “He has a real talent for it. Could be useful under all kinds of circumstances.”

“It could indeed.” said Dean, “So Mom can be outflanked. We just needed a nephilim.”

“Apparently so.” said Sam.

“Good to know.”

“I know you don’t want me to ask and I don’t expect details, but ...” 

“Yeah, we’re talking about Hell.” said Dean, “And it’s not fun, but I’m okay.”

“Good.” said Sam. He wanted to ask if it seemed to be helping, but expected Dean to say no. It was too soon. “That’s good.” he said.

“And Cas hasn’t given up on me yet, so that’s good too.” said Dean.

“Cas is never likely to give up on you.” said Sam.

“I keep telling him that.” said Cas.

“Cas knows about Carthage.” said Dean.

That felt like the most promising thing yet. “You told him about it?”

“He left the saved text on the phone and let me see it.” said Cas. It sounded deliberate. Dean did not make mistakes like that. “Good choice, by the way.” Cas went on, “I don’t think he would have used it, but you made it as hard as possible for him to do so.”

“Sorry, Dean.” said Sam, “I just wanted you to think before backing out.”

“I get it.” said Dean, “You were looking out for me, I know that. You helped me decide to stay.”

“So you have decided to see this through?” said Sam.

“For now, at least.” said Dean, “I’m sure I’ll regret that when we go back to discussing that place.” His voice sounded strained, which to Sam meant that he was scared, but trying hard not to sound it.

“Look after him, Cas.” he said.

“He is.” said Dean, “I’m okay, Sam, honestly.”

“Okay okay, or Winchester Pact okay?” said Sam.

Dean laughed a little. “You really want the truth?”

“That’s why we have the Pact.” said Sam.

“You asked for it. I’m fine now, less fine whenever we talk about all that stuff. I’m not fine at all then. I crumble. I fall apart. I’m a mess.”

“Dean.” said Cas.

“And Cas drags me out of the pit, every time and then I’m more okay or at least less not okay and ... and I don’t have a clue what I’m saying right now.”

“It’s fine, Dean, you’re making sense to me.” said Sam.

There was a long pause, then Dean said, “Great. Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow. Take care of everyone. Look after yourself too.”

“I’m fine.” said Sam.

“Fine fine, or Pact fine?” said Dean.

Sam smiled to himself. “I didn’t sleep last night, but I will later, now I know you’re sort of, for now, pretty much okay. Cas, keep taking care of him.”

“I will.” said Cas.

“Dean, keep talking, even if it hurts. It’s the stuff that hurts that needs to heal.”

“Yeah.” said Dean.

“I know you don’t think it can.” said Sam, wondering as soon as he said it whether it was wise.

“You and Cas think it can and I have been wrong before.” said Dean.

“Yes, you have.” said Sam.

“But not often.” said Dean.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean gave the phone back to Cas. “We should get back to the dark stuff.”

“Yes.” said Cas.

“Hopefully without last night’s breakdown. I’m sorry about that. I lost control for a while. I’ll do better today.”

“There’s nothing you need to apologise for.” said Cas, “If you could remember Hell without emotion, I’d be very concerned. What happened last night was normal and to be expected, under the circumstances.”

“So you think I’ll crumble again?” said Dean, “That’s reassuring.”

“I think you need to stop thinking of experiencing emotion as crumbling. You tried so hard last night to control your response to what you were reliving and that must have been exhausting. You were angry with yourself for being weak, but you have never been that. It isn’t weakness to feel pain. It’s human.”

“Yeah, well, being human stinks.” said Dean.

“What I’m trying to say, and I know I’m not saying it well, is that you don’t have to put so much effort into maintaining a facade of invulnerability. The only audience here is me and I am never going to call it weakness if you find the courage to express fear and pain and sorrow.”

“I know that.” said Dean, “The trouble is, I don’t know how to stop the act.”

“It’s not easy.” said Cas, “You’ve always felt you had to be strong for others. But there are no others here.”

“There’s you.” said Dean.

“Talking to me is like talking to yourself.” said Cas.

Dean smiled. “Yeah, it’s often felt that way.”

“You know what I mean.” said Cas firmly, “Nothing you say here will be repeated elsewhere, nothing you do will be reported to those you care about. Nobody whose opinion of you matters to you will ever know anything that happened here.”

“Your opinion of me matters.” said Dean quietly.

“My opinion of you can’t easily be changed.” said Cas.

“If anything can change it, it’s the stuff we’re talking about here.” said Dean.

“Why don’t you tell me the worst of it and see if it changes anything?” said Cas.

“No, the worst of it would change us both forever.” said Dean.

“How can it change you now, when it happened years ago?” said Cas.

“Because I’ve spent years fighting against what it means and if I just say it, it will feel real and I will lose the fight.”

“This would be what you didn’t want to tell me out there?” said Cas, gesturing to the woods.

“I’m not going to say it, not to anyone. Especially not to you and Sam.”

“Because if we knew it, we would despise you?” said Cas.

“Yes.”

“That will never happen.”

“No, because that stuff stays locked away.”

“Sam was right,” said Cas, “The things that hurt are the things we need to heal.”

“Well, good news! Everything about Hell hurts. Pick a flesh hook and start tugging.”

Cas sat on the old but comfortable couch. “Sit down.” he said.

Dean joined him, sitting at the other end.

“Close your eyes.” said Cas.

“Why?” said Dean.

“Just do it. Why are you always so paranoid?”

“I grew up with a brother, Cas. First thing you learn: never close your eyes when your brother suggests it.” He closed his eyes anyway.

“How do you feel?” said Cas.

“I don’t know.” said Dean.

“No, try again. How do you feel?”

Dean thought about it. None of the words that sprang to mind sounded good. “Scared.” he said, “Vulnerable. Alone.”

“You’re not alone. I’m here.”

“Yeah, but you’re not in here. This is a cell in solitary. This is my own personal void.”

“You feel all those things battering at the walls, waiting in the hall outside, trying to get in? The things you have been holding off for years?”

“Yes.” said Dean.

“Let them in.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.” said Cas, “You’re not alone. We can face them together.”

“I couldn’t face this stuff with an army.” said Dean.

“No, but you have me. I don’t desert, mutiny or riot. I stand with you and I would die for you and I say we can take these sons of bitches.”

“Angelically put.” said Dean.

“I’ve kept some pretty rough company these past few years.” said Cas.

Dean opened his eyes. “Yes, you have.”

Cas handed over his angel blade. “Hold this.”

“Why?” said Dean.

“Why do you never just do as I ask?” said Cas.

“That’s not how humans operate.” said Dean.

“I hate humans.” said Cas, without malice.

“You love us really.” said Dean, taking the angel blade, “That’s why you keep saving our asses. All the other angels, ‘Will of Heaven, blah, blah, blah.’ Castiel, ‘I’m gonna save the world, because I like humanity.’”

“And insects.” said Cas, “Cats too.”

Dean smiled. “I won’t ask in what order.”

“The truth is, I defied Heaven for two people.” said Cas, “If I’d never met you and Sam, I would never have been able to break free and think for myself.”

“Of course, your life would have been a lot easier.” said Dean.

Cas nodded. “Yes, it would. That’s undeniable. But easier isn’t the same as better. On the subject of which, close your eyes.”

Dean obeyed. The cool metal of the angel blade felt reassuringly solid and real as he prepared to face his nightmares.

“It’s time to stop fighting it.” said Cas, “Stop holding it all back and just let it through.”

“If I lose my mind again ... ” said Dean.

“You can’t lose your mind doing this. At worst, you will find it.”

“Well, that sounds terrifying.”

“Dean, just stop resisting and embrace the chaos.” said Cas.

Dean tried. He felt one step away from madness and he could not force himself to take that step. “I can’t.” he said.

Cas said nothing. Dean wanted to open his eyes, but he didn’t. A lifetime of repressed pain lurked in the shadows of his mind and Cas wanted him to let it out.

“Cas, I can’t.” he said.

He gripped the angel blade tightly. Silently, in his head, he said, “Let’s go.” Something slid into his mind, something dark and terrible. He felt his chest tighten, heard his breathing change. He shuddered.

“Tell me about Hell.” said Castiel.

“Every scream is different.” said Dean, “I don’t know their names or their faces or their stories, but if I ever hear any of those screams again, I’ll know it’s one of mine.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that. He opened his mouth to explain or apologise or something, but the words that poured out were quite different. “I needed to make them scream. If they screamed easily, they got less torture. I hated the strong ones. I hated the ones who held out. I needed them to scream. I needed them to beg. Cas, you don’t have to listen to this. You shouldn’t listen to this.”

“Did you enjoy hearing them scream?” asked Cas.

Dean thought for a moment. “No. No, I just needed them to. If they didn’t scream, I’d have failed. Every one screamed eventually.” He realised there was a note of pride in his voice as he said that. He hated himself.

Cas was silent.

“I don’t need to see you.” said Dean, “I can feel your disappointment.”

“That’s in your imagination.” said Cas.

“No it isn’t. I disgust you.”

“No, you don’t.” said Cas, “Stop trying to read my mind and get back into your own. Why did failure frighten you?”

“If I failed, they’d put me back on the rack. I might never have another chance.”

“To do what?” said Cas.

“To escape, to fight back, anything. I needed to be free to act, if any action became possible.”

“You’re telling me, after thirty years in Hell, helpless and tortured, you were still waiting for a chance to fight your way out?”

“Of course I was. I needed to get out of there.”

“And you still think you were weak?” said Cas.

“Dad was there longer than I was. He didn’t turn torturer.” said Dean. The angel blade in his hand felt real and solid as he struggled against shadows.

“It’s just a thought, but maybe he refused because he had lost hope.” said Cas, “Maybe he didn’t have your strength.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” said Dean, “When the Devil’s Gate was open, he got out. That took strength.”

“Yes, when the gate was open, he found the strength to get out. You made yourself ready to get out ten years before there was any real hope of escape.”

“Whatever. I still did terrible things. There’s no way to make this better.” Dean opened his eyes. “Cas, I got angry when they wouldn’t scream. I hated them for being strong, for making me feel weak. Does that sound like a strong man or a good one?”

“I’ve seen a lot of torture.” said Cas, his voice bearing the weight of his own guilt and shame, “I’ve seen people who after a day, could not raise their heads. After thirty years of daily torture, you were still capable of making decisions ... ”

“The wrong decision.” said Dean.

“You were still enough yourself to want to have dignity and pride and see yourself as strong, if not good.”

“Are you seriously trying to twist this into something I should be proud of?” said Dean, feeling an irrational anger against the angel who refused to lose faith in him, even when he was hacking away at his own pedestal with a pickaxe.

Cas looked at him impassively. No flicker of emotion was visible in his face.

“You should hate me, Cas.” said Dean, “Everything I did in Hell was wrong.”

“Everything you did in Hell was done to you.” said Cas, his voice calm.

“How can you just sit there and ... ”

“And believe in you?” said Cas.

Dean felt the anger drain away. The tension left his shoulders and he bowed his head, exhausted. “I can’t do this anymore right now.” he said.

“No.” said Cas, reaching out to take the angel blade. He gestured to the beds whose heads abutted the back wall of the cabin. “You should get some rest.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, then realised he didn’t want to. “Okay.” he said.

He walked over to the nearest bed and fell onto it. He closed his eyes.

“Do you need anything?” said Cas. Footsteps crossed the floor.

“No.” said Dean, “I’m fine.” Then he added, very quietly, “We’re okay, right?”

He felt a blanket laid over him. “I’m still proud to call you my brother.” said Cas.

The shadows in his head retreated at the words. “You’re a fool.” he said, sympathetically.

“You’re not the first to think so.” said Cas. His hand rested for a moment on Dean’s shoulder. “Fool or not, I see you clearly. I always have. I wish I had your strength. I wish I had your integrity. I am glad I have your love.”


	14. Chapter 14

Cas sat on the empty bed to watch over Dean for a while. He was facing the other way, but seemed peaceful enough. 

That he had fallen asleep so easily showed how tired and drained he really was. In some ways, it was a blessing, but it was also worrying. Dean had been through so much in a few hours and Cas was unsure whether it was actually helping.

He could not fault Dean’s contribution. However reluctantly he was facing all of the mess in his head, he was forcing himself to face it and his courage in doing so was impressive. Cas wanted that to count for something. He wanted Dean to get some reward for his current pain.

Cas was well aware that he was not the ideal person to work on this. Dean needed an expert on healing trauma, not on inflicting it, but at least he understood the guilt of a torturer, the pain of having caused pain. Shame was not exactly alien territory to him. In any case, there was nobody else. There were no psychologists that he knew of specialising in Hell related guilt.

Dean had called him a fool and he had no way to refute the accusation. He had done some stupid things in his life. His list of mistakes was long and painful and, whenever things went wrong, Dean exhibited an encyclopaedic memory of them. Dean knew every time he had fallen short of the perfection most people associated with angels and yet Dean trusted him enough to do all of this.

He hoped that wouldn’t be a mistake on Dean’s part. He knew how often and how badly he had let Dean down. Even his most recent death must seem like an act of stupidity and abandonment. Dean was not of a forgiving nature, yet he forgave every one of Castiel’s mistakes, eventually. Again and again, he put his faith in a broken, confused, uncertain angel and the angel was both thankful and afraid of letting him down again.

Dean moved in his sleep. Cas was alert, watching for signs of wakefulness, but Dean stayed asleep. He knew he could ensure a deep sleep, but he felt he had invaded Dean’s embattled head too often already. It was right to let him sleep on his own terms.

Cas wondered about the things Dean refused to say. One victim bothered him more than the others. Because the torture had gone too far with that one, or because he had enjoyed it too much? Cas hated to inflict pain, but there were times, when deep in an interrogation session, when the person in front of him became less than a person and he felt a certain grim pride in his work. Afterwards, the memory of that feeling haunted him. How much worse must it be for Dean, without an angel’s cool detachment, without the reassurance that Heaven willed it?

Dean was afraid of his judgement, of the moment when he would look at him with contempt, not compassion, but Castiel, angel of the Lord had no right to judge anyone. His own hands were not clean of innocent blood. His own atrocities were countless and yet, he knew that somewhere, they were all numbered.

“You should hate me.” he had said and he meant it. Part of him wanted to be cast aside, despised, because then it would be done and over and he wouldn’t have to wait for it anymore. Cas felt a surge of anger towards John Winchester. Whatever sympathy he might have for the man, he found it hard to forgive the fact that he had allowed Dean to grow up believing that he mattered to no-one. It hadn’t been true, of course, even then. John had surrendered his own soul for his beloved son, but that sacrifice had come too late. Dean had needed to hear a few more words of love and acceptance long before that.

Now, he barely heard them at all and those he heard, he considered either false or temporary. Even though he acknowledged Cas as a brother, he expected him at some point to give up on him. Whatever that one victim had made him believe of himself, he did not trust either brother to judge the situation more kindly. 

Cas, who had seen how many things Dean could not forgive himself for and who found it easy to forgive him for all of them, did not believe there was something in his memories of Hell that could ever be beyond forgiveness. The only darkness in Dean was his own self-loathing, forged of guilt and shame and the feeling that everyone expected more of him than he could deliver. Dean judged himself more harshly than anyone else could and then projected that judgement onto others. When he avoided Cas’s gaze, it was because he saw his own pitiless eyes looking back at him, filled with disgust that he would not hurl at any other being.

Cas lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Heaven was almost empty, God absent without leave and Crowley dead. One minor angel with a chequered history and no value to Heaven had no means of fixing any of that. Lucifer’s son was walking the Earth and he could do more about that, because Lucifer’s son was also Kelly Kline’s son and it turned out that he had no immediate urge to destroy the world or to rule it. With the right guidance, he might even save it. Cas admitted to himself that he might not be the best guide a boy could have, but the Winchesters probably were. Maybe Heaven and Hell would be replaced with something else, ruled by Jack and advised by Sam and Dean and then the vision of a world of peace and joy might come to pass.

Or it might not. Absolute faith was far harder for Cas these days. The only two people he believed in to that degree were a leader of hunters in a bunker in Lebanon and the righteous, but wounded man on the bed two feet to his right. 

He wished he believed in himself enough to know for sure that he could help them both. They would continue to fight either way, but he longed to give them both peace. They deserved that, who had given up everything everyone else took for granted to save the world as many times as it needed saving.

There was really nobody left to pray to, so he just hoped as hard as he could that he could get this one thing right. “Team Free Will.” he said softly.

From the other bed, he heard a reply of, “Damn right.”

“Go to sleep. Dean.” he said, but from the steady breathing, Dean had never woken up. 


	15. Chapter 15

Dean woke and sat up. Cas was sitting on the couch, looking at him. “I hoped you’d sleep longer.” he said.

“How long was I asleep?” said Dean.

“Almost four hours.” said Cas.

“Well, that’s not bad.” said Dean, “Now, you’re about to ask how I am and I’ll say fine and you’ll ask if I mean it and I’ll admit that I probably don’t, but I don’t know for sure how I feel and that’ll get awkward.”

“Probably.” Cas agreed.

“So let’s skip all that and just drink the whisky.” said Dean, going to the sink to grab the bottle that was standing on the side of it. He took two glasses from a shelf and put them on the table. “Objections?” he said.

Cas came over and sat at the table. “No, the idea has merit.” he said.

Dean poured two generous shots of whisky and then sat opposite Cas, pushed a glass towards him and said, “Cheers.”

Cas took it and raised it. “Cheers.” he responded.

Their eyes met, then pretended they hadn’t. They drank and then stared at their empty glasses. “Again?” said Dean.

Cas nodded.

Dean poured the drinks again and then looked at Cas. “You’re itching to say something. Say it.”

“I thought we were going to skip all that.” said Cas.

Dean smiled. “No, come on, Cas. Say whatever’s on your mind. I promise, I’ll listen.”

Cas drank his whisky and then took the bottle and refilled the glass. He drank that glass too.

“Bad as that?” said Dean.

“I’m fine.” said Cas.

“Is this because of the things I’ve said about Hell?” said Dean.

“No, not really.” said Cas, “I just need to ask you something and I want you to be honest.”

“Okay. Ask.” said Dean.

“How much more of this can you take? I don’t mean ever, I mean right now. If you need this to stop, it can stop.”

Dean stood up. He looked out of the window over the sink, then back at Cas. “If we give up and go back now, Sam will know I decided to back out and that’s not going to encourage him to keep talking.”

“We don’t have to go back immediately.” said Cas, “I meant what I said. Nobody else will ever know what, if anything, we discussed here unless you want to tell them. It’s your decision, Dean, and it should be made without thinking of anyone else.”

“Yeah. No. I don’t do that.” said Dean, “You know, you’re giving me a lot of ways out of this. Why are you doing that?”

“Because it has to be your choice, all the way.” said Cas, “Don’t misunderstand. I want this to continue. Just not at any price. You’ve suffered enough, Dean. You’ve done enough. I know every moment of thinking about Hell is painful to you. I’ve tortured a lot of people for a lot of reasons, but it’s not my intention to torture you, especially when you don’t feel there is any purpose to this.”

“Well, before I give my honest answer, will you answer something honestly for me?” said Dean.

“Of course.” said Cas.

“Have the things I’ve said made you think differently about me?” said Dean.

“No, they have not.” said Cas.

“Not at all?”

“Not at all.”

“Because I can take a lot more of this if you can.”

“I am not the one it’s hurting.” said Cas.

Dean leant on the table. “You hate all this almost as much as I do.”

“I hate what this is doing to you. I hate making you remember the things you don’t want to think about.”

Dean picked up his glass and drained it. “It’s not like I ever forget any of it. The hard part is saying it aloud, admitting it to myself, admitting it to you.”

“I know.” said Cas.

“How, much whisky do we have?” said Dean.

“That’s all of it, but more alcohol can be acquired. I can go and buy some now.”

“No, we’ll go together. This thing is stressful enough, without us each wondering if the other has gone home.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” said Cas.

“I might, but I’m trying not to.” said Dean, “You should give me fewer options and opportunities.”

“I told you, this has to be your choice.”

“You know I would find it easier to make the right choice if you didn’t dangle the wrong ones in front of me.”

“So you do see staying as the right choice?” said Cas.

“Damn manipulative angels!” said Dean. He poured the rest of the whisky into the glasses. “Drink, you sneaky, manipulative son of a bitch. I don’t know why I’m wasting good whisky on you. You’re less likely to be affected by it than I am.”

Castiel drank and then smiled at him. “Say anything. If being angry with me helps, be angry. I can take it.”

Dean nodded and slowly drank the last of the whisky. “I know you can. I know you will. I’m not angry. I’m not. Sometimes I just ...”

“Need to lash out?” said Cas, “Or need to test a friendship to see if it breaks?”

“Is that how it seems to you?” said Dean.

“I’m not always the best at reading humans,” Castiel admitted, “And you are more difficult than most humans.”

“More difficult than most humans. That could work as an epitaph.”

“If you ever need an epitaph, let me write it. Yours is a little inadequate.”


	16. Chapter 16

Sam was in the armoury with Bobby. Bobby walked along the comprehensive array of weapons with a smile. “These Men of Letters could have given us a much better chance against those feathered thugs.” he said, looking around immediately for Castiel, “No offence to your angel or the nephilim, of course.” he said.

“Don’t worry, Cas isn’t back yet.” said Sam, “And he’s no big fan of angels himself. They’ve treated him pretty badly over the years.”

“Enochian brass knuckles?” said Bobby, “Could you spare me a set of those?”

“Pick a set.” said Sam, “I think we can equip anyone who wants to carry on fighting.”

“I think that will be just about everyone.” said Bobby, “You know how hunting is. You kinda get the taste for it.”

Sam was about to answer when his mother came in. “Jack’s reading the Constitution.”

“Oh.” said Sam, “Well, that’s a good thing, right? He needs to know this stuff.”

“It’s great.” she said, “It also gives me a break. That kid has so many questions.”

“Yes, he does. I’m sorry if he’s bugging you. He doesn’t mean to.” said Sam, making a mental note to reward Jack with all the candy he could eat.

She smiled. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m glad someone around here still needs a Mom.”

“Did those guys put Enochian on everything?” said Bobby, picking up a throwing star. 

“Mom, Dean and I still need you too.” said Sam quietly.

She stroked his arm. “I feel like I abandoned you.” she said, “More than once.”

“Yeah, you didn’t get a lot of choice.” said Sam.

“Maybe not the first time.” she said,

“I understand.” he said, “So does Dean. We both sometimes need to run away.”

“Is that what Dean’s doing now?” she said.

“No, that is the opposite of what Dean’s doing now.” said Sam, then he realised he should not have said that. “Dean’s okay. He’s checking out those cabins.”

“He seemed so strange when he left.”

“He seemed fine to me.” said Bobby, “You worry far too much, Mary. Both your boys are capable of taking care of themselves. Nice grenades!”

“Don’t you get obsessed with grenades.” said Sam, “I have enough trouble with Dean wanting to play with them.”

Mary looked at Sam again. “You’d tell me, if there were something wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Sam hugged her. “I will always tell you anything you need to know.”

“It doesn’t make much sense,” she said, “To worry when he’s with Castiel. I just have this feeling, like he’s far away and a little lost. But maybe that’s just Dean. When he was small, he was so open and eager to talk. I felt so close to him all the time. Now, he always seems to be alone, even when surrounded by people. Did my death do that?”

“Maybe a little.” said Sam, “But it was just one of many factors. And I know he seems isolated, but a lot of that is a front. He’s not the lone wolf he thinks he is. When he’s with the people he trusts, he opens up.”

“He doesn’t trust me?” she said. The sadness in her eyes struck Sam in the heart.

“It’s different with you.” said Sam, “He trusts you, but he doesn’t trust that we’ll always have you around. If he’s wary of confiding in you, it’s because he’s terrified of losing you. He’ll get past that. He thought you were dead until Jack told us you weren’t.”

“He did, but you didn’t?” she said.

“I think I was just unwilling to consider it a possibility. I’m scared of losing you too. I love having you around. I love learning who you are, without Dean and Dad’s hagiography. Not that I don’t believe every word of it, now that I know you, but it’s good to meet the flesh and blood version.”

“I’m just glad I’m not a disappointment.” she said.

“These guns and I are going to the range.” said Bobby, picking out a few.

“Yeah.” said Sam, “Have fun.” He smiled at his mother. “Dean and Dad’s stories and my own fantasies of the perfect mother didn’t come close to the reality. You are a great Mom, you are funny and kind and devoted and all the stuff they said you were except a great cook.”

She laughed.

“Seriously, Mom, your cooking stinks.”

“I know. I’m more of a hunter than a homemaker.” she said, “I found it so hard to accept that. I felt like I failed at the one thing that mattered.”

“You never failed at anything.” said Sam, “You know what kept Dean going when we were kids? The few years of memories of you. He clung to you, all that time. He was strong because he remembered your love. Cooking is nothing. There’s always the Piggly Wiggly for that, but you can’t buy a mother’s love.”

“You had no memories to help you.” she said.

“No, you’re wrong. I had his. He told me that you loved me. I came to love you through his love for you. I knew that anyone who meant so much to Dean must be every bit as wonderful as he said. Knowing that I would never know you hurt like Hell, but at least I knew you had cared about me.” He blinked back tears. “And now I do know you, and you are wonderful and we love each other.”

“Yes we do.” she said.

“And Dean loves you more than ever. When he knew you were alive, nothing mattered to him but bringing you home.”

“And then I refused to come and insisted on staying to fight someone else’s war. No wonder he was upset.”

“He understood that. He may not have been overjoyed, but he understood. He’s devoted his whole life to fighting other people’s battles.”

“So have you.” she said.

“I just really followed Dean. I’m not hero material.” said Sam.

She nodded to the door. “Nobody out there would agree with you.”

“You and Dean are so alike. It’s weird. I always thought he was like Dad, but now I see so much in him that comes from you. I know it seems like he’s keeping his distance, but he’s just trying to give you some space. He’s afraid of being too demanding. The hole you left in his life could suck in galaxies. Things will get better. Dean is stronger because you’re here.”

“I hope so.” she said, “You boys are everything to me. Please tell me you know that.”

“Of course we know that.” said Sam, “And you are everything to us. We’re self-contained because we’ve had to be. It may take us a while to learn how to change that, but you, me and Dean, we are always going to be family.”


	17. Chapter 17

Castiel parked the car in front of a liquor store. Next door to it, more basic necessities were for sale. “You get the food.” said Dean, “I’ll get the booze. You know the drill.”

“Nothing healthy, lots of meat and there is no acceptable substitute for pie.” said Cas.

Dean smiled. “Knew I could rely on you.” 

He went into the liquor store. An elderly man smiled from behind a well-polished counter. “Can I help you?” he said.

“That depends how much quality whisky you have.” said Dean.

“I foresee a profitable exchange for both of us.” said the man.

Five minutes later, with the cases of whisky stacked by the counter, Dean handed over a credit card. “Thanks for your help.” he said, “I’ll be coming here again.”

“That is a lot of whisky. Having a party?”

“Yeah. Lots to celebrate.” said Dean.

“Is that your car out there? I can give you a hand carrying it out there.”

“No,” said Dean, “Thanks for the offer, but I have all the help I need.” He took the receipt and carried the first case out to the car, loaded it and then went to the grocery store to find Cas.

Cas was heading to the door with his own purchases. Dean took one of the bags from him. A woman whose name badge declared her to be Laurie said, “This is your brother?”

“Yes.” said Cas.

“You don’t look that alike.” she said.

“No, we don’t.” said Cas.

“He’s taller than you.” said Laurie, smiling at Dean.

“You should see our other brother.” said Cas.

“Let’s go.” said Dean.

Laurie followed them out to the car, where they dumped the groceries. “Come and help me with the whisky.” Dean said to Cas.

“You two are really brothers?” said Laurie, “You look like a lumberjack and an accountant.”

“Well, funny you should say that ... ” said Dean.

Cas suddenly pulled out his FBI ID. “Actually, we’re not brothers. We’re on a case and you are in serious danger of obstructing our work.”

“I’m sorry, Agent Moscone.” said Laurie, suddenly very flustered, “I didn’t know.”

“That’s very much the point of being undercover.” said Cas.

Dean kept looking from one to the other, wondering whether he needed to take control of the situation. Cas seemed a lot more focused than usual, a lot more competent. There was no trace of uncertainty.

“May I ask what case you’re on?” said Laurie quietly.

“A missing persons case.” said Cas, “We’re close to finding him, I think. Poor guy’s been through Hell and we just want to get him back where he belongs.”

“Oh.” she said, “I hope you find him.”

“We won’t stop until we do.” said Cas.

“Why do you need whisky?” said Laurie.

“That’s confidential information, ma’am.” said Dean quickly. She nodded and retreated to the grocery store. Cas swiftly put his ID away. “Look at you, Cas,” said Dean, “Lying like a pro.”

Cas smiled. “I find lying a lot easier when I am telling the absolute truth.” he said.

“You told it well.” said Dean, “We’ll make a conman of you yet.”

“Hunter, Dean.” said Cas.

“Yeah, absolutely, hunter.”

“Nice car!” said a man in a T shirt several inches too small for him. His exposed beer gut nodded its approval of his attempt at sarcasm.

Dean felt a sudden urge to punch him. “What did you say?” he said, moving towards him.

“Cute car. Real adorable.” said the man.

Dean shoved him backwards, almost knocking him off his feet. “You have a problem with my car?”

The man raised a hand in front of him, “Hey, I’m sorry, I meant no offence.”

“Dean.” said Cas, “Come on. Remember what happened last time?”

The man was now looking seriously worried. “Last time?” he said.

Cas took Dean’s arm and smiled apologetically at the man. “It’s fine. It’s important for him to work on suppressing his urge to beat people into jelly. Because violence doesn’t achieve anything, does it, Dean?”

“It makes me feel better.” said Dean.

“You might want to just back down and admit that the car is pretty cool.” said Cas.

“Oh, it is!” said the man, “I think it’s great. I wish I had one like it.”

“Yeah, it’s a frickin’ classic.” said Dean, “And don’t you ever forget it.” 

The man nodded and fled. Cas gave Dean a look.

“What?” he said.

“You hate this car.” said Cas.

“I don’t hate the car. Stop saying I hate the car.” said Dean.

“You hate the car, so what was all that about?”

“No car I am in is ever anything but cool.” said Dean.

Cas looked at him in silence for a moment and then smiled. “It was unnecessary, but not unappreciated.”

“Same could be said of your intervention.” said Dean, “You had the guy almost soiling his underwear.”

“I enjoyed that far more than I should have done.” said Cas, “Now, let’s get the whisky before we meet any more of the locals.”


	18. Chapter 18

When everything was loaded, Cas handed the car keys to Dean. “Why don’t you drive this time?” he said. He knew that Dean felt better when he drove. He was an uneasy passenger at the best of times.

Dean smiled. “Okay. Thanks.” Soon they were making a good pace down quiet roads.

“The FBI thing was probably an overreaction.” said Cas.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It shut her up.” said Dean, “I just can’t get over how convincing you were.”

“Is it okay to ask something Hell related?” said Cas carefully.

Dean didn’t immediately answer. His eyes were fixed on the road. Cas was beginning to wonder if he’d heard the question when Dean said, “Depends what you’re going to ask.”

“Then I’ll just ask it and see.” said Cas, “Apart from Alistair, do you remember any of the demons involved in your time in Hell?”

“You mean names?” said Dean.

“Yes.”

“Why do you want to know?”

Cas didn’t answer. He had hoped Dean wouldn’t ask that.

Dean turned to look at him. “Yeah, good to know you still can’t lie well to me. You plan a little demon-interrogating trip.” He looked at the road ahead again. “It’s okay. I’d do the same, but if you think I’m pointing you in the direction of demons, forget it. Crowley’s dead. I’m guessing Hell is not a friendly place right now.”

“So you do remember names?” said Cas.

“What makes you think I left any of them alive? It’s been years, Cas.”

“You just told me they’re still alive. You’re no good at deceiving me either.”

“Then you know I’m telling the truth when I say I will never tell you any of their names. If you have questions about Hell, ask me.”

“And the things you won’t tell me?”

“Are the things I don’t want you to know.” said Dean, “You should respect that.”

“I do respect that.” said Cas, “I just don’t accept it.”

“Respecting is accepting.” said Dean.

“Fine, forget I asked. I know better than to try to out-stubborn a Winchester.”

“Good.” said Dean. He turned to glance at Cas and said, “It’s forgotten, really. We’re good. When we get back to the cabin, we can talk about Hell again. I’ll tell you all the parts I can tell you.”

“You’ve been telling me more than I expected you to.” said Cas, “Forgive me if I sometimes ask more than you can give.”

“Forgive me if I sometimes can’t give what you ask.” said Dean, “If I could, I would.”

“I know that you feel you can’t.” said Cas, “Your faith in us is finite.”

“No, it isn’t.” said Dean.

Cas fell silent again, as reluctant to hurt Dean as to anger him, wishing he could get it through that thick, Winchester skull that there was nothing that happened in Hell that could change how he or Sam saw Dean. He knew that Dean would not listen. To him, the stakes were too high. How could he trust their devotion when he would lose them both forever if he overplayed his hand? A decade of proving his loyalty, a lifetime for Sam, could never still the little voice in Dean’s head that said, “Everyone leaves you in the end.”

“It isn’t, Cas.” said Dean again. A note of fear had entered his voice, detectable only to someone who had spent years watching him pretend to be fearless. 

“Good.” said Cas quickly.

“Good.” said Dean. He was driving a little faster. gripping the wheel a little tighter, but his voice sounded less stressed as he said, “You know, any half-decent mechanic could do a lot to improve this car.”

“A much better mechanic frequently does.” said Cas.

A smile hovered on Dean’s lips.

Cas went on, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.”

The smile was a little more certain this time. Then it was gone. “I guess it’s my job then.” said Dean, “Someone has to keep you on the road.”

“You have a lot of other things to deal with.” said Cas, “So I don’t expect this car to be a priority.”

“I don’t give a damn about the car.” said Dean and it was Cas’s turn to smile. Dean looked at him and saw it. “But I don’t hate it either.” he said.

“How do you feel about manipulative angels?” said Cas.

Dean smirked. “They’re okay.”


	19. Chapter 19

In the cabin, Dean opened two bottles of whisky and gave one to Cas. “Here you go, Chrysler Building. Let’s forget the glasses and try to get hammered.” He took a swig from his own bottle. “It’s not working yet.” he said. He knew the chances of either of them getting inebriated were remote.

“Do you want to eat or anything?” said Cas.

“No, I want to drink.” said Dean, “Drink and talk about Hell. Well, I don’t want to talk about Hell, but I promised, so we’ll do that.” He went to the couch and sat down. “Come on. Let’s talk! No demon names, though.”

“No, I think you were pretty clear about that.” said Cas, taking his seat at the other end of the couch, “Did you sleep in Hell?”

“Yes. I’m not sure why I was allowed to. Plenty of others weren’t, but they left me alone for a few hours at the end of every day. I even had dreams.”

“What about?” said Cas.

Dean took another long drink from the bottle. “Torturing that smug bastard Alistair. Dreams do come true.” He looked at Cas, knowing it was not something either of them remembered with any pride or happiness. “Sorry.” he said.

“I think I should be the one apologising.” said Cas.

“If we’re going to list all the things we should apologise for, we’ll never get to anything else.” said Dean, “And my list will be longer than yours. Remember, ‘The past is in the past and is forgiven.’” he said, quoting the Winchester Pact.

“Is anything ever really forgotten? Uriel and I forced you to torture Alistair.” said Cas.

Dean gestured to the bottle in Castiel’s hand. “Drink. Guilt, shame and regret are what whisky was invented for.”

Cas drank. “I still feel all three.” he said.

“Yeah, but they have that oaky aftertaste now, don’t they? Seriously, Cas, you have to let go of the past. I blame Uriel for that. I don’t blame you. You were a different person then.”

“That’s true.” said Cas.

It seemed strange that they were delving into Dean’s distant suffering when Cas seemed to bear a bigger burden and had endured it longer. “Maybe we need to focus on you for a while.” said Dean, “Maybe you need to talk about all the blame you heap onto yourself.”

“That would be a waste of time.” said Cas. “We’re here to talk about your issues, not mine.”

“We can’t do both?” said Dean.

“I fear I would just be a way for you to evade discussion.”

“Have I evaded anything so far?”

“Not much.” Cas admitted.

“Then maybe you should trust me not to.”

“Tell me what you’ve been refusing to tell me and I’ll discuss anything you like.” said Cas.

“Why do you keep asking? I’ve told you why I can’t tell you that. I still can’t tell you.” said Dean. He thought about the young man being dragged over to him, across his eyes, hair matted with blood. He banished the memory, forcing himself to think of something else, something worse, Sam dying in his arms. He needed those memories buried beneath anything else, pushed so deep they could not slip into the things he said. The smallest hint would be enough for Cas to ask more questions, or to guess at what had happened. He glugged down as much whisky as he could. “Just stop asking.” he said.

“Then you are evading something and I have no intention of giving you any help with that.” said Cas.

“I want to help you.” said Dean, “And you think it’s just a diversion.” He took another long drink.

Cas gave Dean his bottle. “You need this more than I do.” he said.

Dean nodded his thanks. “Maybe you think a mere human can’t ever help an angel.”

“No, I think this human has helped this angel in many ways. I just think the angel needs to repay that now.” said Cas.

“You, me and Sam, we’re all damaged. We’re all struggling with the stuff we can’t fix and don’t want to live with.”

“Yes.” said Cas.

“So why am I the one that matters?”

“Sam has been talking to me too.” said Cas.

“And who do you talk to?” said Dean, “Because you used to have thousands of angels on your group chat and now you’ve got about three and me.”

“You were always worth a thousand angels.” said Cas.

“A thousand Uriels, not a thousand Castiels.” said Dean, “Not a thousandth of a Castiel.”

“There is a reason why we were told to bow down to man.” said Cas.

“Not this man. You ever get to your knees in front of me and I will hamstring you with your own angel blade.”

“Is it possible you are beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol?” said Cas.

“When you dragged me out of Hell, why didn’t you also dig me out of the grave?” said Dean. Suddenly, the question that had lurked at the back of his mind seemed to be of vital importance.

Cas seemed surprised by the question. “The grave was not deep, the ground was loosened.”

“Why, Cas?” said Dean.

“Hell is designed to break human souls. Hell is a demon factory, a place to drive people mad with despair.” said Cas, “I put you there to force you to fight your way out of the ground, to reclaim who you were before they broke your spirit. Did you know that the child being born is the one who triggers the labour?”

“You wanted me to be reborn?”

“Yes. as yourself, not to be dumped into the world as a useless wreck with no will to do anything.”

“A little brutal, but okay.” said Dean.

“I knew if you could dig yourself out, what made it out into the world would be Dean Winchester. I stayed close, in case you couldn’t do it.”

“You’d have dug me out?”

“Of course, if you’d needed me to, but you didn’t.” said Cas.

“And you believed I wouldn’t need help?”

“And I was right.” said Cas, “I’ve always been right to believe in you.”

Dean started on the second bottle. “I think I need to be a lot more drunk for this.”

“For what?” said Cas.

“Well, our next little dip into the depths of Hell.” said Dean, “I don’t want to disappoint you. But one day soon, my friend, we are gonna talk about all the stuff Heaven did to that head of yours.”

Cas nodded. “Anything you want.” he said, "You drink. I'm just going out for a minute."


	20. Chapter 20

Castiel went out into the woods and walked until he found a quiet place amongst the trees. He hadn’t prayed in a while and this felt wrong on so many levels, but the look of pain in Dean’s eyes had forced him to it. He needed to help him, even if it meant doing something he would never have considered in the old days.

He began to walk around, letting his nervous energy choose the pace. His voice shook a little as he went against everything he had believed in before, for the sake of his faith in the Winchesters. “I know,” he said, “That you have no great affection for me and I know that there is no pressure I can bring to bear on you, no favour that you owe me or could ever owe me, no reason at all to believe you even kept listening if you recognised my voice. I am not coming to you from a position of strength and I acknowledge that.”

He looked back towards the cabin. Crowley was dead. He could think of no-one else who could or would help. “You never liked me much and you had good reason not to,” he went on, “But you cared about him and I think you still do. He freed you. He saved you. He has to matter to you. Dean is in trouble, because of what happened to him in Hell years ago. I need information. I need to know the things he can’t tell me. I’m begging you, Amara, get that information for me.”

He waited, but there was no sign anyone was listening. However, that had never stopped him before. “I’m not going to make rash promises or deals like humans do. I have nothing you want, unless you want a car everyone laughs at or have a pressing need for a coat. I can’t even promise my allegiance, because that lies elsewhere now and I am comfortable with my choice. If you help Dean, you will have my gratitude, which is probably worthless to you. I’m not really selling this deal, am I? We never did get along, you and I.” He was starting to wish he had written it down first. If Amara had listened past the first five seconds, she was doubtless laughing at him.

He decided to focus on the one thing they had in common, Dean Winchester. “They made Dean torture souls in Hell and he thinks that makes him a monster. He hates himself. No matter how much good he does in the world and he has saved it several times now, he still thinks he’s worthless. If anyone doesn’t share that harsh opinion, he thinks he has corrupted them. I’ve tried to get him out of this mess alone, but I’m failing and I know that soon, he will give up and stop letting me try. If you could give me something ... anything about what happened in Hell ... Just give me some of the information you omniscient beings have in spades or tell me the name of any living demon who might know and I will find him and torture him until he tells me everything.”

He stopped walking and sat on a large tree root that ran across the ground. “Or give me Crowley. Or give me an hour, any time in the past, to speak to Crowley and ask him. Just help me to help Dean.”

A call from the direction of the cabin interrupted his prayer. “Cas?” shouted Dean.

Cas stood, brushing dirt from his coat. “I’m here!” he said.

Dean came through the trees. “Are you okay, Cas?” He still seemed pretty sober.

“I’m fine.” said Cas, “I just needed some time to think.”

“Do you want me to leave you in peace?” said Dean.

Cas thought about it. There had been no response to his prayer, no indictation that it had been heard. “No,” he said, “We should get back and I should make some food.”

“Not your job.” said Dean.

“Please, Dean. I’m feeling fairly useless today.” said Cas.

Dean looked into his eyes and said, “You are never useless.”

“Baby in a trenchcoat?” said Cas.

“Never, ever listen to a word that dude says. He’s a jerk.”

“How are you feeling, Dean?” said Cas.

“I’m feeling great.” said Dean.

“I’ll have to invoke the Winchester Pact there and ask again.” said Cas.

“Okay, less great, but not bad. Not as bad as I could be.”

“That’s meaningless.” said Cas.

“Yeah, I know. I suck at honesty. I suck at a lot of things. I know why you needed to come out here.”

“Do you?” said Cas, really hoping he didn’t.

“I’m a wreck. Even you can’t be around me for long.”

“No, that isn’t true.” said Cas.

“But it’s fine.” said Dean, “Because I can and will pull myself together, end this pity party and stop putting you through all of this.”

“You mean abandon trying to deal with the Hell related issues?”

Dean smiled, the lopsided smile the first sign that the alcohol might be taking effect. “No, I promised. I just mean I’ll try to handle it better. You deserve better than this.”

“I sometimes don’t think I deserve you at all.” said Cas.

“Have you done something I don’t know about?” said Dean.

“No.” said Cas, talking to a divine being who wasn’t listening couldn’t really count, he decided.

Dean put an arm around his shoulder and began to take him back to the cabin. “Doesn’t matter if you did. As long as you didn’t crash my car or kill a relative, we’re fine.”

“Fine fine, or Winchester Pact fine?” said Cas.

“I’d die for you fine.” said Dean.


	21. Chapter 21

Castiel started preparing a meal and Dean sat on his bed, carefully cleaning his gun. He watched Cas with interest. Cas liked to actually cook, with ingredients. “What are you making?” he said.

“Soup.” said Cas, “Tomato rice soup.”

“What?” said Dean. He knew it could not be coincidence. “Mom used to make that.”

“I know.” said Cas, “She told me the recipe.”

“Why would she do that?” said Dean, knowing that if Cas had asked for it, his mother would already know something was wrong. “Why would you ask for it?”

Cas seemed surprised by his sudden anxiety. “I didn’t.” he said, “We were talking soon after we first met and she told me she used to make it for you and she said maybe I should know how to make it. I think she saw it as just something to say. We had some communication problems at first. I mean, it’s still awkward between us.”

“Why is it awkward?” said Dean. He knew that his mother had been uncomfortable at first, having an angel around the place, but he had assumed that was all in the past.

“I’m not sure.” said Cas, “I think she finds it difficult to know what to say to me. And of course, I am very careful what I say to her. There’s a lot you don’t want her to know and then there’s the fear of offending her in some way. She’s your mother.”

“What does that mean?” said Dean.

“It means that I want her to like me. Can you imagine the atmosphere in the bunker if Mary and I couldn’t get along?”

“But you do get along.” said Dean, “Mom likes you. She loves you.”

“Yes and I love her. We just both pick our words carefully. It’s getting better. Don’t start thinking there’s a problem, because there isn’t. Your mother is so kind to me and I would do anything for her.”

“Okay, good.” said Dean, “But if there ever is a problem, you tell me, because I will need to sort it out.”

“Does it bother you that I know how to make the soup?” said Cas.

“No, it bothers me that you think I need the soup.” said Dean. He smiled slightly. “I’m just worried that you think I’m falling apart.”

“I don’t.” said Cas, “I didn’t think you needed it, just that you might want it. I should have remembered that you are afraid of comfort.”

“I’m not afraid of comfort.” said Dean.

“Well then, of being comforted, of seeming to anyone to have any kind of need.” said Cas, “You don’t like it when I treat you as if you are human.”

Dean wasn’t sure how to answer that. He had the unsettling feeling that Cas was right, that his biggest problem with the soup was that it meant Cas believed he needed comfort food, which did feel like an admission of weakness. Cas had seen him weak so many times, had even seen him on the point of surrender. He had never judged him harshly because of it. Their friendship was not based on bravado and denial, indeed, it was the only friendship in his life where he could honestly admit the extent of his weakness.

“I can make something else.” said Cas.

“No, make the soup.” said Dean, “Just never tell Mom that you made it. She would know right away that something happened.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” said Cas, turning his attention back to the food.

Dean wished he had brought more guns. There was a limit to how long the routine maintenance of a single one could keep his hands and mind occupied. 

He was worried that Cas and his mother seemed not to have resolved all the difficulties between them, although it did seem they were friends and were working on better communication. He wanted those he loved to love each other. He didn’t want to think what would happen if they ever made him pick a side.

On the other hand, that the difficulties seemed to stem from the fact that each knew the value he placed on the other was reassuring. His mother found it strange that he had an angel for a best friend, but at least she understood that the friendship was important to him and Cas knew how much he needed the relationship with his mother.

“The human thing ... ” he said, “I’m not trying to hide the fact that I sometimes need ... ” He gave up. He didn’t know what he was trying to say. “Forget it.” he said.

Cas turned to look at him. “Assume you said it all. Assume I understood it. Assume you eloquently explained to the dumb angel that it’s hard to talk about the emotional needs that have been unmet since you left that burning house. Assume he finally grasped that.”

Dean smiled. “The dumb angel grasps a lot that I don’t give him credit for.”

“I know you think I’m treating you like a child, because you see all emotional need as childish, as something you should have outgrown and the lack of fulfilment of which should no longer hurt. I don’t think we need less love as we get older. I just think it’s a lot easier to get love when you’re four years old.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, it was for me.”

“If food is the way you can accept love, I will make food. If it’s all about fighting beside you, consider me your comrade in arms. And if we have to pretend I don’t know how much you need somebody to care that you exist, I can do that too.”

“What if I don’t deserve your love or anyone else’s?” said Dean.

Castiel shrugged. “If love had to be deserved, my life would be a desolate wasteland.”

“That isn’t true.” said Dean.

“It’s at least as true for me as for you. Maybe you and I have to love each other because nobody else ever could love us.”

“Sam loves us both.” said Dean.

Cas nodded. “Yes, he does. You know, if Sam loves us, Sam Winchester, maybe neither of us is as worthless as we thought.”


	22. Chapter 22

Cas was stirring the soup as it simmered when suddenly, he was somewhere else. It was a large, limestone cavern with a pool of water on the floor and some impressive evidence of the water’s undisturbed work for centuries in forming flowing crystalline deposits.

Behind him, Amara said, “You will not try to interfere with what has happened or is going to happen. You can ask him what you like, but if you try to warn him of future events, I will vaporise you. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” said Cas, turning to face her. “Thankyou for hearing me.”

“It was something of a novelty to hear a prayer directed my way and I know it was no easy thing for you to speak to me.”

“I bear you no ill will.” he said.

“Well, here is what you asked for.” said Amara and Crowley was suddenly beside her. “Crowley, ask nothing of the future. You are here because I want you to help Castiel.”

“To do what?” said Crowley. looking at Cas.

“Some respect, please.” said Amara, “I would have no problem reducing you to your component atoms.”

“I apologise.” said Crowley.

Amara turned to Cas. “I hope this helps. Believe me that I want you to succeed.” Then she was gone.

Crowley whistled. “Best friends with God’s sister, Castiel? That’s a change.”

“At the moment, our concerns coincide, that’s all.” said Cas.

“And what moment is this? I take it this is a time travel situation.”

“You seem very relaxed about it.” said Cas.

“Not my first rodeo. When I get the chance, I like to visit ancient Mesopotamia. Nice place. The people there are very happy to make idols and offerings to worship me.”

“I can see how that would be your thing.”

“So it’s the future, from my perspective, anyhow. And you need my help, which means in your present, I’m dead, disappeared or royally pissed off with you. I also can’t help noticing you are not accompanied by our two adorable muppets, which means ... well, could mean a lot of things. Are you here without Dean’s approval?”

“I’m here about Dean.” said Cas.

Crowley smiled. “Behind his back.”

“I prefer without his knowledge.” said Cas.

“Yeah, I bet you do. So how can I possibly help future you concerning future Dean? I mean, it must be something big if you’re desperate enough to borrow a DeLorean from Amara.”

“Dean spent a lot of time in Hell, with Alistair.” said Cas.

“Before my time. I would never have put Dean with the rank and file prisoners. Why waste that kind of potential?”

“You rule Hell. You have had access to all the information from that time.” said Cas.

“Yes, but I don’t have it here with me now. There are records, of course, but ...”

“Crowley, stop wasting my time. Do you expect me to believe you don’t have every detail of Dean’s time in Hell memorised?”

“You have a high opinion of my memory.”

“I know what you think of Dean.” said Cas.

“Do I detect a whiff of jealousy, Castiel?”

“You know what happened!” said Cas, getting angry.

“So do you!” said Crowley, “They tortured him and they broke him and then some interfering angels harried Hell and carried him out. He had kicked off the Apocalypse, but it was fine, because he also stopped it and we all lived precariously ever after.”

“I need to know what broke him.”

“Why would you need to know that?” said Crowley.

“Because he’s still broken and I need to save him.” said Cas.

Crowley shook his head. “Don’t dive into those waters, my feathered friend.”

“I’m not your friend.”

“You know, it hurts whenever you say that.”

“If I had time, I’d record myself saying it on a loop, just for you.” said Cas.

“I’m serious, Cas. Back off from this. You can’t help Dean and you will only end up even more messed up than you already are.”

“I know you ...” he went through the possible words that ran through his head and said, “Care about Dean. Whatever you pretend, you are, in a way, his friend.”

“And yours.” said Crowley.

“You are not my friend. No demon is my friend.” said Cas.

“I’m just about the best friend you ever had, you overpromoted moth!” said Crowley, “Not that you’ve ever reciprocated much. As friends go, you’re a bit backstabby, as Dean is about to find out.”

“I’m doing this for Dean.” said Cas.

“Oh, I’m sure you are. Angelic Castiel, every betrayal from the best of intentions! It’s why he forgives you, every single time. But this time, you need to walk away. There is nothing in Hell. past, present or future that will help Dean. It can only hurt him more.”

“You know what it was, don’t you?” said Castiel.

“Alistair was a specialist, a craftsman. He took pride in his work. Dean was a real challenge to him. Most humans are easy. Half of them crumble if you offer them wealth or sex. Most of the rest can be defeated with pain and fear. Dean could take anything thrown at him. Pain, greed, lust and fear were useless. Even when Alistair finally got him to take up the tools of torture, Dean still kept a little spark of who he had been. It drove Alistair nuts. I’d feel sorry for him, if he hadn’t been the kind of demon even demons hate. Actually, come to think of it, that’s all demons, really. Not a lot of camaraderie in diablerie, if you catch my drift.”

“Crowley, just get to the point.” said Cas.

“The point is, my little cherub ... ”

“Seraph.” said Cas.

“Whatever. The point is that Alistair had to go deep with Dean, hit him in the one place he was vulnerable. My point is that if you go there too, you won’t be fixing anything. You will just continue the torture and that time, that betrayal, he might not be able to forgive.”

“Just tell me!” said Cas.

“No.” said Crowley, “And not because there’s no quid pro quo and not because I still hold a grudge for all the times you shafted me, but because I know you better than you think and I know that if you hurt Dean this way, you will never, ever be able to forgive yourself.”

“This thing, even unspoken, is hurting him right now. He thinks he is worthless.”

“I know.” said Crowley, “And if the information had any chance of changing that, I would give it, gratis. You’re right, I care about Dean Winchester. I often wish I bloody didn’t, but I do and I would help him if I could. I am helping him, by stopping you from stomping on his heart with the best of intentions. If you never believe anything else I say, believe this. There is nothing in any of it that can help him.”


	23. Chapter 23

Sam was in his room, trying and failing to nap, when he heard a faint knock on the door. “Jack?” he said.

The door opened. “How did you know it was me?” said Jack.

“Just a guess.” said Sam, “What do you want?”

“Mary’s gone out. She got a call about a possible werewolf situation. I offered to go too, but she seems to think I’m a kid.”

“I know that feeling.” said Sam, “Dean and Dad left me behind a lot when I was younger. Don’t worry. Dean and I don’t see you that way. When he and Cas get back, we’ll make sure you get to go on some hunts.”

“Thanks, Sam.” said Jack.

“Mom’s just trying to protect you. She’s very fond of you.”

“Yes, I know.” said Jack.

“I think it would do us both good to get out of the bunker.” said Sam, “You feel like coming for a drive?”

“I’d love to.” said Jack.

Soon, they were driving through Kansas and Sam smiled to himself, remembering so many rides on those roads with Dean. “I grew up in this car.” he said.

“What was it like?” said Jack.

“It was good, mostly. I mean, there were monsters and Mom was dead at the time and Dad and I clashed a lot, but it was still mostly good. I always had Dean. When we’re together, we can handle anything.”

“I feel like that when I’m with you and Dean and Castiel.” said Jack.

“Good.” said Sam, “Family is important.”

“Family is everything.” said Jack.

“Yes, it is.” said Sam.

“I’m so glad I found mine.” said Jack.

“We’re all glad you’re with us.” said Sam, “Because you deserve a good home and a family to support you. I know it isn’t always easy, being one of us, but I hope it’s worth the effort.”

“I don’t think it’s always easy looking after a nephilim.” said Jack, “I know I’m not an average sort of fmily member.”

Sam smiled. “No, you’re not and because you’re not, we have our Mom back. We owe you so much, Jack.”

“I owe you everything. When I first arrived, I was so alone and so scared. You helped me, even when you weren’t sure you could trust me.”

“Once I met you, I was pretty sure.” said Sam.

“Even with all those other people to take care of, you always have time for me.” said Jack.

“They mostly take care of themselves.” said Sam, “And Bobby’s a good leader. You’re my priority. Whatever happens, whatever’s troubling you, you can always come to me. You know that, right?”

Jack nodded. “Yes, I know that.”

“To all of us, actually. We’ll always be here for you, Jack.”

“And I want you to know, all of you, that my powers will always be yours to command. All I ever want to do is help all of you.” said Jack, “I know my father did some terrible things. I know he especially hurt you, Sam. I want to make amends for that.”

“It’s great that you want to use your powers for good,” said Sam, “But you are not accountable for the acts of your father and you certainly don’t have to make amends for them. He chose what he did. The same choices lie ahead of you. Just make sure you don’t repeat his mistakes.”

“I don’t understand how he made them.” said Jack.

“That’s because you’re nothing like him.” said Sam, “That’s why you will never fall as he did. I spent a lot of time trapped with him in the cage. Believe me, you are not like him in any way.”

“When you look at me, you don’t see him?” said Jack.

“No. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to spend time with you like this. Any reminder of him ... ” he glanced at Jack and decided not to say too much, “You’re like your mother and that is something to be proud of. She was a good person.”

“Yes, she was.” said Jack, “She loved me so much.”

“She did.” said Sam, “She’d be so proud of you now, too.”

“Are you proud of me?” said Jack.

“More every day.” said Sam.

Jack smiled his sweet, uncomplicated smile and Sam smiled back. There was not a trace of Lucifer in his son, not one glimmer of selfishness or spite.


	24. Chapter 24

Crowley and Castiel paced around the cave in irritation. Castiel was losing patience with the erstwhile King of Hell. “If you just tell me what happened, Dean never even has to know. I could just find a way to counter whatevcr it did to him.” he said.

“I’m not telling you and that’s final. Honestly, Castiel, you’d think by now you would start to understand. Purgatory: not a great idea, Leviathans: not a great idea, shutting the gates of Heaven: bloody stupid idea, cracking open the tortured psyche of Dean frigging Winchester: a whole new level of stupid idea. Dean’s fine ... I mean, I assume he’s fine, he always is. Yes, he’s damaged, but we’re all damaged. Dean just pushes down the pain and gets on with his life.”

“I put myself in debt to Amara to get a chance to talk to you.” said Castiel.

“More fool you.” said Crowley.

“So it’s all for nothing?”

“Doesn’t have to be.” said Crowley.

“What do you mean?” said Cas.

“You could satisfy my curiosity about something.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did that troublemaker Meg call you her unicorn?”

“That question makes absolutely no sense to me.” said Cas.

“Just before her unfortunate demise, she sent Sam to save her ‘unicorn’ and I’m wondering why she called you that.”

“Well, if you hadn’t murdered her, you could ask.”

“Murder is a strong word.” said Crowley, “Especially from an angel who was never one to shrink from killing demons.”

“I came here for information, not to argue with you.” said Cas.

“Seriously, Twinklehoof, did you and Meg have a thing?”

“I have never consorted with demons.” said Cas.

“Sweetie, you’re consorting with one right now.”

“If you won’t help me help Dean, we have nothing to discuss.”

“I won’t give you a way to destroy Dean and take out your whole relationship as collateral damage.” said Crowley, “But I never said I wouldn’t help you. I can give you a valuable piece of advice. Don’t go behind his back looking for secrets, just talk to him honestly.”

“How can I, when I don’t know what that thing was that made him feel this way?”

“What did it make him feel?”

“Useless, worthless, corrupt and evil. It makes him want to die.”

“Speaking of death, am I dead?” said Crowley. He frowned. “No, I don’t think I want to know. I’d be too upset. I’m my favourite. My current working hypothesis is that I am so annoyed with you and/or the Winchesters that you don’t feel it’s worth asking for my cooperation in your present or that you have asked and I said no, possibly, ‘Hell, no!’ Because I can be like that.” He smiled at Cas, “Sorry, distracted by self-interest. You need to fight his image of himself and believe me, I know how hard that is, because I’ve tried. You need to find the wound and heal it. Finding the weapon and stabbing it back into his guts is not going to help him or you.”

“And you refuse to tell me what that weapon was? What if I promised not to mention it to him?”

“Castiel, we both know you would make any promise and break it in three different directions if you thought it would get you what you want. I’ve never even met a demon as perfidious, faithless and deceitful as you and trust me, I have looked for one. You have no ethics, my friend. I respect that, but I also put no faith whatsoever in your word.”

“Maybe you just won’t tell me because knowing it gives you power over Dean.” said Cas.

“If I were going to use it that way, don’t you think I would have by now? I don’t deny, Dean is a magical dagger that I love to wield against my foes, but he’s a glass dagger. One thing you do not do with an enchanted glass dagger is hurl it against a wall and smash it into a thousand useless fragments. The very fact that I have never used what I know should tell you that you should not use it either.”

“I don’t see Dean as a weapon to use.”

“What do you see him as, Castiel? How many times have you nose-dived from a state of grace for him? It was never part of your programming to have mortals as friends. What manner of unicorn are you?”

“We were supposed to protect them.” said Cas.

“To the point of defying Heaven? You’re not protecting Dean Winchester. You’re following him.”

“Heaven has raised no objection.” said Cas, “So what’s your problem with it?”

“From what I’ve heard, Heaven would gladly kill him.”

“Well, let them try.” said Cas, “I’ve killed angels before.”

“But you still are one yourself. You know why demons are better than angels?” said Crowley.

“By any objective measure, they are not.” said Cas.

“They are and I’m going to tell you why they are.” said Crowley, “Because they are humans first. They innovate, they adapt. That’s why we can out-think your lot every single time.”

“So, according to you, humans must be better than angels too.”

“Yes.” said Crowley, warily.

“So I should follow Dean Winchester.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying ... I don’t know what I’m saying, but just think things through, Cas. Above all, don’t mess up the Winchesters. The world needs them.”

“Well, thanks for your complete lack of help, Crowley.”

“Thanks for your complete inability to listen.” said Crowley.

Before he could speak to summon Amara, Cas found himself in the cabin kitchen, stirring the soup. He looked across to Dean, who was sitting on the bed. 

“You look tired.” said Dean, “I can stir soup.”

Cas turned back to the pot on the stove. A tear rolled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away.

“Cas?” said Dean.

“I’m fine.” said Cas.

“I don’t know whether to invoke the Pact or whack you over the head with it.” said Dean, leaving the bed.

“I just feel like I’m getting nowhere.”

“With the soup or with me?” said Dean.

“The soup is coming along well.” said Cas.

“I did warn you that this stuff can’t be fixed.” said Dean, getting two bowls from the shelf. “Let’s just forget the whole thing and concentrate on getting Sam sorted out.”

“You’re only saying that because you think you don’t deserve to be helped.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, “It’s the one advantage of the whole situation. One of the people who thinks I should be left to rot in the Hell of my own making is me, so I will never reproach you with it. You have my blessing to give up on me. I already have.”

Cas took the soup off the stove and carefully covered it with a lid. Then he swung his fist at Dean. Dean dodged it. “Whoa!” he said, “What’s that for.”

Cas grabbed his collar. “I’m not giving up and neither are you!” he said.

“I can make you give up any time I want to.” said Dean.

“No you can’t!” said Cas.

“Yes, I can.” said Dean sadly, “But as soon as I do, you’ll hate me as much as I do.”

Cas let go of his collar. “Just tell me what you’re afraid to tell me.”

“Soup’s going cold.” said Dean, “Let’s eat.”


	25. Chapter 25

The soup was delicious and just eating it together seemed to ease the tension that had so nearly turned to violence. Dean understood his friend’s frustration and he knew that he should never have allowed Cas to know he was hiding something but now that thing stood between them like a wall and just the fact of its existence was like stabbing Cas repeatedly in the heart.

Dean washed the bowls and then sat on the couch with Cas. “The stuff I can’t tell you, I can’t tell you.” he said, “And I know I wouldn’t accept that for an answer either.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” said Cas.

“I trust you more than anyone else in the world.” said Dean, “Too much, maybe. I let you know there was something to hide.”

“Sorry about the punch.” said Cas, “I just ...”

“Yeah, I do that too.” said Dean.

“I feel like time is running out.”

“Time for what?”

“Sooner or later, you’ll decide we have to go back to the bunker and there, you’re not going to be willing to talk about any of this. You’re already talking about giving up.”

“And suddenly you’re not able to look me in the eye.” said Dean, “You’re already having doubts about me.”

“I’m not, Dean.”

“Then why ...”

“Because I’m tired of failing you. I never seem to do anything else. You are the only thing left for me to believe in. I wish you believed in me. I wish I had ever given you reason to.”

Dean saw the guilt in his eyes. He knew he had missed something and he could guess at what kind of thing it was. He resisted the urge to speak in haste. It felt like a good time for sensible reflection. Yes, Cas had clearly tried something to get the information he wanted and normally, Dean would see that as a serious betrayal, but that stupid, unthinking act had been driven by love and had clearly come to nothing and now Cas was torturing himself about both the breach of trust and the failure.

“I don’t see a wrecked Impala or any dead relatives.” he said.

“I’m sorry?” said Cas.

“Whatever you did, or tried to do, I get it and I forgive you.” He smiled. “Cas, there’s a long. written confession in your eyes. Did you think I wouldn’t see it? You’re such a Winchester. You’ll do anything for the ones you love, even if it means they’ll hate you for it. And now you’re scared I’ll hate you even though it never went anywhere.”

“And you don’t?” said Cas.

“No point hating Winchesters for being Winchesters.” he said, “I’ve done things every bit as stupid and every bit as pointless.”

“I just ...”

“Stop, Cas. I don’t want or need to know what you did. Now I understand the punch. You were angry with yourself, for risking everything for a misfire.”

“Yes.” said Cas, bowing his head.

“What the Hell am I doing to you, Cas?” he said, “This is my fault.”

“What, this and everything else?” said Cas, looking up.

“I wish for your sake, you knew how little I deserve any of this, but for my sake, I’m very glad you don’t.”

“I think I lost my mind.” said Cas, “I find it hard to be rational where your wellbeing is concerned.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” said Dean, “Last time you died, I kinda gave up on everything. We’re fearless and clear-headed about our own lives, but all three of us lose all perspective about each other. Now, like I said, I don’t need details, but is there a demon somewhere we need to gank to nullify a contract?”

“No, but Amara might want a favour sometime.” said Cas.

“Amara? Wow, Cas, you didn’t mess around. How did you even find her?”

“I prayed.”

“To Amara?”

“I was desperate.” said Cas.

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” said Dean, “Give me my phone.”

“What are you going to do?” said Cas, giving it to him.

Dean found the text of the Winchester Pact and handed the phone back. “See that bit, there?”

“We acknowledge that we will not always uphold the letter or the spirit of this pact and that we will make mistakes, have bad days, suffer misunderstandings and otherwise mess up. Knowing this, we will forgive each other's mistakes and lapses.”

“Yeah, well, this was a mistake and now it’s forgiven. So stop feeling bad about it. We move on with a fresh start.”

“You keep it on your phone? The whole thing?” said Cas.

“Have you any idea how long it took me to memorise a simple exorcism? And I had a lot more incentive to do that.”

They looked at each other for a while and Dean was relieved that they could make eye contact again. He had never felt more compelled to just tell the truth about Hell, but every time the words started to form in his head, he remembered that he could lose Cas and Sam forever if they knew anything about it.

Cas looked at the phone and scrolled a little. “This bit’s interesting.” he said. He showed it to Dean.

“On the matter of Hell, Sam and Dean both undertake to talk openly and honestly with Castiel about their time in Hell with the understanding that he will not reveal what is said to anyone else. Both will make every effort to process the trauma and heal from it.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mention stuff that can’t be mentioned.” said Dean.

“Would that not be the trauma?” said Cas, “I think something too terrible to ever be discussed definitely sounds like trauma. Also, note the part about not telling anyone else.”

“You’d still know.” said Dean.

“And you know I went to Amara and you can use that against me any time you like.” said Cas.

“No I can’t, because I forgave that. It never happened.”

“Whatever happened in Hell, I forgive. The moment it’s spoken, it never happened.”

“Yeah, Hell doesn’t work that way.” said Dean.

“Our friendship does, or it would never have survived this long.” said Cas.

“If I ever tell you what happened ... and I’m not saying I ever will ... you will have to give me a cast-iron, set in stone guarantee that you will never let Sam find out.”

“I have given you that and I will give it as many times as I have to.” said Cas.

“And you have to promise that no matter how bad it is, you will give me a chance to seek your forgiveness or at least your understanding.”

“I freely give my forgiveness and my understanding.”

“Promise anyway.” said Dean, “Because I am not throwing my whole life under the bus without insurance.”

“I promise.” said Cas.

“I can’t do this. I still can’t do this.” said Dean. He got up and walked to the door. He didn’t open it. Instead, he went to the crates of whisky in the corner and took out two bottles. “Me and my friends here are about to have a little wager.” he said, “We’re gonna see whether I pass out before I get drunk enough to tell you.”

“Why not just tell me?” said Cas.

Dean jumped onto his bed, one bottle in each hand. “What would be the fun in that?” He smiled. “If this is the last time we speak, I want you to know, I am thankful for every day of our friendship.”

“So am I.” said Cas, “And it doesn’t end here.”

“That’s a promise you can’t make.” said Dean.

“It’s a promise I just did make.” said Cas.


	26. Chapter 26

Dean woke in darkness. For a moment, he thought he had told Cas everything and Cas had left him alone in the cabin, but then he heard movement and realised that Cas was sitting at the table. He sat up. “Cas?”

“How do you feel?” said Cas.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” said Dean.

“I don’t really need light.” said Cas.

“Oh.” said Dean, “What time is it?”

“Night time.” said Cas. 

Dean reached for the whisky. He didn’t find either bottle. “Where are the bottles?” he said.

“By the sink, empty. I can get you a full one if you want it.” said Cas, “I thought you’d be more comfortable if you didn’t have to share a bed with glass bottles.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t need anything.” Cas seemed oddly distant, but Dean was almost sure he had fallen asleep without saying anything. Then he understood. Cas was trying not to put pressure on him, hence the darkness and the offer of another drink.

“You’d better come over here, Cas.” he said.

Cas came and sat on the end of the bed.

“Thanks for letting me sleep.” said Dean.

“I thought it might help.” said Cas.

“Last chance not to hear about the worst thing.” said Dean.

“Tell me.” said Cas, “I swear, it won’t end our friendship.”

“And you can keep Sam from ever finding out?” 

“Yes.” said Cas, “I will never repeat anything you say to me tonight. I’d offer you the angel blade, but I’m not sure it would be a good idea.”

Dean tried to find the words, but couldn’t. He was having trouble even letting the images appear in his head, the long hair, the dried blood, the wild, terrified eyes, his own hand, so calm, unshaking, lifting the knife as he had every day for years.

He clasped his hands together in his lap. Castiel was a dark shape a few feet away. “I can’t.” he said, “I’m so sorry, Cas.”

Cas moved closer. “Just tell me and it’s done. You never have to feel this fear again.”

“It feels like saying it would end everything, our friendship, my life, Sam.”

“Sam will never stop loving you and neither will I.” said Cas.

Dean put his head in his hands. “Cas, I stopped loving him. All those years, fighting to protect him, promising I would never let anything bad happen and then nothing. I just stopped loving Sam.”

“No you didn’t. You never stopped. You were in Hell for him.”

“In Hell, I stopped caring.” said Dean, “Nothing mattered to me there. Nobody mattered.”

“You were being tortured.” said Cas.

“I was torturing.” said Dean.

“Same thing.”

“Is it? Is it really?” said Dean, “Because it doesn’t feel the same and I bet it didn’t feel the same to the people I was torturing.” He felt hands grip his shoulders. “Cas, just go. Get out of here. You don’t need to know this.”

“You need to tell someone.” said Cas.

Dean let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. He didn’t know himself which it was trying to be.

“Dean, please.” said Cas.

Dean’s throat constricted and his mouth became dry. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “They brought someone in. I thought it was Sam. Right hair, right height, even the eyes.” He grabbed Cas’s arm, feeling the cool coat sleeve beneath his fingers. “Cas, I didn’t even hesitate. I picked up the knife. All that time, I’d told myself I was only doing that stuff until I could escape, then Sam walks in and he’s just another piece of doomed meat to carve up.”

“It wasn’t Sam.” said Cas.

“No, but it could have been.” said Dean, “I thought it was when I picked up that knife.”

“It wasn’t Sam!” said Cas louder. He gripped Dean’s shoulders more firmly.

“I didn’t know that.” said Dean.

“Of course you did.” said Cas, “You would never have hurt Sam.”

Dean shook his head. “I thought it was him, and I picked up the knife and I went over to get to work. If you ever tell Sammy this ... ”

“Sam will never hear any of this.” said Cas.

“It keeps replaying in my dreams, over and over, but in my dreams, it is Sam and he begs me not to do it and I don’t care, I just wanna hear him scream and I know he won’t break easily, because it’s Sam and then I’m Lucifer and I’m laughing and I hear Dad say, ‘How could you hurt your brother?’ But then, everyone I hurt was someone’s brother or sister or parent or child. How’s your righteous man theory looking now?”

“You think an evil man is ever so consumed with guilt?” said Cas.

“Cas, Cas, Cas, my hand didn’t shake when I reached for the knife. I thought I was about to cut Sam and it didn’t even hurt to think it. He was just another victim I had to get through before I could rest.”

“Are you going to claim it doesn’t hurt now to think it?” said Cas.

“Now doesn’t count.” said Dean.

“You’ve taught me that now is all that counts.” said Cas, “Hell is not a place where you can be your best self. The whole point of the place is to crush your humanity, to make you a monster and to make you hate everything about yourself.”

Dreams and memories were spinning around in Dean’s head. He stopped feeling the hands on his shoulders, the arm under his hand. He felt the cool curve of the knife in his fingers, the resistence of the flesh that gave way as he pushed the blade into his victim ... his brother. Castiel’s gentle, insistent voice with all its kind words faded away and he heard only his brother saying, “Dean, no! Please!” and his father saying, “Take care of Sammy, that’s all that matters.”

“I’m sorry.” he said, the words less than a whisper. Castiel said something, but he didn’t hear what. Sam was screaming in his head, all ages of Sam, the baby, the child, the teenager, the student he had dragged away from college, the man who had resisted Lucifer when he couldn’t even stand up to Alistair, the brother whose friend he had killed, whose chance for a happy, normal life, he had repeatedly sabotaged and all the time, in the maelstrom of screams, he held the knife in his hand and he smiled, because screams were his reward. “Sam, I’m sorry.” he said.

In some quiet corner of his mind, he was observing his own descent into pain and madness, watching with an odd kind of interest, as if he had been waiting to see how the mind would be destroyed when all that he had done finally caught up to him. The observant part of his mind was already wondering whether he would end it with the gun or the knife. For some reason, the angel blade seemed to be off-limits. “Get rid of the angel.” said a calm voice, his own, he realised, “This can be over now.”

“Cas, go.” he said, “Go back to the bunker and make sure Jack is okay.”

“We’ll both go back, tomorrow.” said Cas, barely audible above the screaming.

Dean backed away from Cas, letting go of his arm and getting clear of the hands holding his shoulders. He reached under the pillow and found nothing there. “Where’s my gun?” he said, “Where’s the knife?”

“Both safe.” said Cas. He turned on the light. Dean looked at him, seeing tears on his face for the first time he could remember.

“Cas, are you okay?” he said. The screaming stopped, old pain pushed away by the fear that Cas was suffering because of him.

“No.” said Cas.

“I’m so sorry, Cas. I told you not to hear this stuff. This is my stuff, not yours. You should have left me to handle it alone.”

“I did, for as long as I could.” said Cas, “Why do you want weapons, Dean?”

“Doesn’t matter.” said Dean, “I just wanted to know where they were.”

“Just how stupid do you think I am?” said Cas.

“Cas. you’re friends with me. That’s pretty damn stupid.”


	27. Chapter 27

Cas sat on the bed again. “Well, you told me.” he said.

“Yeah, and I warned you it was bad.” said Dean.

“And I’m still here and we’re still friends and the only reason I’m not forgiving you is that there is nothing to forgive.”

“That’s crap and you know it.” said Dean.

“I need a favour.” said Cas.

“What favour?” said Dean.

“I need you to listen to me, really listen and not just argue.”

“I’ll try.” said Dean. 

“Are you thinking clearly?” said Cas.

“Not really.” Dean admitted, “But I’ve stopped hearing screams for now.”

“You didn’t mention hearing screams.” said Cas.

“No, Cas, you don’t mention hearing screams when there are not screams to hear because then people know you’re crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.” said Cas.

“Let’s be honest, Cas. It’s been a long time since you had all the marbles you were issued with.” said Dean.

“Then I would know crazy when I saw it.” said Cas, “You’re not crazy, but you may be drunk. Are you drunk?”

Dean thought about it. He knew he should be drunk. He would not have been very surprised to wake up dead after the amount of whisky he had swallowed. “No, I’m not drunk.” he said.

“So, just suicidal.” said Cas.

“No, not that either.” he said, but he knew that his search for weapons made that look like a lie. “I don’t do suicide.” he said, “I mean, I do do suicide to talk to reapers, but not as a permanent thing. Too many people depend on me and I have a lot to make up for.”

Cas nodded, never taking his eyes off Dean’s.

“You’re looking at me like you don’t believe me.” said Dean.

“What I believe is irrelevant.” said Cas, “Are you able to give me your full attention and really listen to what I say?”

Dean sat up straighter. “Yes, I am.”

“Good.” said Cas, “Then hear this loud and clear. You endured thirty years of torture in Hell. You held out all that time. When you gave in enough to take up the knives yourself, you still harboured a hope of escape. You did what you had to do in order to be ready for any opportunity to get out.”

“Do you think that ... ” 

“Yes, I do, now shut up and listen.”

Dean fell silent.

Cas went on. “Alistair was failing with you. That’s why he had to find something new, something that would hurt you, destroy your belief in yourself, so he found someone who looked like Sam and he forced you to torture him.”

“But ... ”

“You said you’d listen, so listen.” said Cas, “None of the things you did were choices. They were all inflicted on you by Alistair. You were given no choice and so no blame can attach to you. If you told Sam everything you have told me, he would understand and he would not assume you didn’t love him, but we’re not going to test that, because I know if I even hinted at the possibility, one of us would not be leaving here alive. For what it’s worth, I’m fairly sure it would be you that died, because whatever you say about suicide, you are a lot more comfortable with that than murder.”

“May I speak now?” said Dean.

“No, I still have things to say.” said Cas. He looked pretty determined. 

“Okay.” said Dean.

“I don’t believe you would have tortured Sam, but I don’t care one way or the other and neither would Sam.”

“That’s dumb, of course he would care.”

“If I have to truss you like a turkey and gag you, I will.” said Cas.

“You can try.” said Dean.

Cas raised his hand to Dean’s forehead, reminding him that angels didn’t have to play fair. He backed away. “Okay, okay! Shutting up!” he said.

“Just remember, Dean, I could put all this in your head and make you think you thought it. I could edit your mind like I edited Lisa’s. I could brainwash you and make you forget anything I don’t want you to remember.”

“So why haven’t you?”

“Because I’d rather die.” said Cas, “I’d even rather have you die, but die as yourself. Just remember that I have the choice. I am choosing not to use my powers.”

“I understand.” said Dean, “And thanks. I will listen.”

“Good.” said Cas, “Now, I meant what I said. I don’t care whether or not you would have tortured Sam, because the real you wouldn’t. The real you will always protect him, no matter what. Remember the Mark of Cain?”

“It’s a little hard to forget.”

“Such powerful corruption. Lucifer couldn’t withstand it, neither could Cain.”

“Cain overcame it for thousands of years.”

“Because his brother was dead.” said Cas, “The Mark wanted siblings to destroy each other and the reason why you could fight it was that it kept telling you to kill Sam and you could not do it. Even when Death and the Mark both convinced you that killing Sam was the right thing to do, the only option left, you couldn’t do it, because your love for Sam was stronger than the strongest curse in history. So don’t tell me you ever stopped caring about Sam. It isn’t possible.”

Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes. He clearly meant every word. Years of anguished memories of Hell argued loudly with the angel’s belief in him, but there was something about the calm certainty of the heartfelt defence of him which he could cling to in the chaos.

“What happened in Hell was of Hell.” said Cas firmly, “It did not come from you. It is not part of who you are. It was done to you and it was done to you precisely because there was no other way to fight your strong will. The torture they unleashed on you was the worst I have heard of, because it had to be. You could not be broken any other way.”

Dean wanted to believe him, but Alistair’s approving smile haunted him. Alistair had introduced him to others as his “promising apprentice”. Demons had turned away from his torture sessions appalled. Tears filled his eyes and fell unchecked down his face.

“It wasn’t you.” said Castiel, his voice gentle, as if soothing a child. “None of it was you. There is no evil in you. Even when you became a demon, you ran away from Sam, because you couldn’t face the thought of hurting him.” Cas gripped his arm. “Of all the many superpowers you have, my friend, the greatest is that of remaining Dean Winchester, when anybody else would lose who they are forever.”

“And you think being Dean Winchester is a good thing?” said Dean.

“I do.” said Castiel, “I really do. I just wish it could be an easier one. You have suffered so much for this world.”

Dean was about to say he deserved to suffer, but it seemed unfair when Cas was fighting his corner so fiercely. He closed his eyes.

“Do you need a break?” said Cas.

Dean nodded. He stretched out on the bed. “Thanks for everything you said, Cas.” he said.

“Thanks for listening.” said Cas, “Now try to believe.”


	28. Chapter 28

Sam woke in the middle of the night and checked his phone. He hoped that the lack of communication from Dean was a good sign, but he would have liked some indication that all was well. He could call Dean, he knew, but the last thing he wanted was to interrupt. 

He admitted to himself that he had no reason to worry. Cas would always put Dean’s welfare first. It was just that Sam knew how hard it had been for him to start talking about Hell and Dean would find it harder, because he felt it couldn’t help and because he was so afraid of vulnerability.

The first time he and Cas had sat down to talk about it, it had taken Sam more than twenty minutes to form any meaningful words on the subject. He had searched for distractions, made excuses, fumbled so badly with his words that he had begun to wonder if he spoke English and Cas had sat across the table from him, kindly pointing out that he was avoiding the issue. 

The bunker had been empty that day and Cas had said, “Dean will be gone for hours. There’s no-one here you need to protect.”

“This stuff, even just thinking it hurts.” Sam had said.

“I know,” said Cas, “And you think about it a lot and you can’t tell Dean, because it would hurt him more. It’s a heavy burden to bear alone, Sam, especially when you don’t have to.”

“He blames himself.” said Sam, “It was my decision, my idea and the only reason it didn’t end with Lucifer taking over the world was that Dean gave me the strength to fight. He didn’t send me to Hell, he gave me the will I needed to take Lucifer there. He saved the world, saved me and he blames himself that I ended up in the cage.”

“You would do anything to lessen his guilt.” said Cas.

“Yes, I would.” said Sam.

“Then talk to me. He sees every time you flinch when Lucifer is mentioned. He knows what your nightmares are about. Stop hiding behind all the excuses and all the worry about Dean and let’s heal the wounds to your soul. That will help Dean more than anything else ever could.”

“Lucifer,” Sam had said, his voice trembling, “Is always there, in my dreams, my memories and my fears. I know I’ll face him again. I know I have no way to kill him. I know he’ll kill people I love and I have no way to stop him. He would love to kill Dean. When he was possessing me, I could feel how much he wanted to kill Dean. I have to prevent that.”

“We all do.” said Cas, “This is not just your fight.”

“I let him out of the cage.” said Sam.

“Did you?” said Cas, “I’m sure that was me.”

“And why were you in the cage? To rescue me.”

Cas had smiled and said, “There is only one person in this world whose strength, courage and will I consider greater than Dean Winchester’s.”

“Is he or she up for the fight?” said Sam, “Because we could really use that right now.”

“It’s you.” said Cas, “No matter what pressure was brought to bear, no matter how he threatened or cajoled or blackmailed, you kept resisting Lucifer. He wants to kill Dean because it is the only thing he can do that would sufficiently punish you for humiliating him. Lucifer hates you with a passion. He hates you because you are everything he is not, strong, resilient, in control. You were supposed to be his vessel, to be like him in everything, but you never were. He could not corrupt you. He knows he never will.”

“In my dreams, he’s always laughing.” said Sam, “Or talking. He talks so much! He’s always saying that one day, he will find a way to break my will and make me his slave. Sometimes I think he already has. I’m useless when he’s around. I’m useless when he’s so much as mentioned.”

“I’ve never seen you useless, Sam.” Cas had said.

Sam had been surprised by that statement. “Cas, I am afraid, all the time. Even if Lucifer were dead, I would still be as scared, because I’ll never believe he is really gone. I live my life in a state of perpetual fear, perpetual weakness.”

“You’re telling me that every day, you are consumed with fear of Lucifer and what he may try next?”

“Not every minute, but yes, every day.”

“And you respond by fighting evil, saving lives, putting yourself between your brother and certain death whenever you can.”

“We’re hunters. It’s our job.” said Sam.

“So everyday, you feel trapped within your fear and every day, you overcome that fear and do your job? And that’s weakness to you?”

“As a kid, I always felt I was tainted in some way.”

“And so you were, but you’re not now.” said Cas, “You should have been an easy win for evil every time. They were counting on it. You were supposed to shatter along the lines of the flaw they gave you as a baby. You were supposed to be a sharp-edged mess of pain and hate, easy prey for Lucifer and his gospel of spite and envy.”

“Without Dean, I would have been.” said Sam.

“Love is a powerful thing, but to hold onto love when the devil is in possession, that takes strength. That takes boundless courage.”

“I felt anything but brave at the time.” said Sam.

“I’ve never met a hero who thought himself brave.” said Cas.

“Sometimes, I sleep with the light on because the darkness reminds me of Hell.” said Sam, “Does that sound like courage to you?”

“So sometimes, you don’t?” said Cas.

“Most nights, I don’t.” said Sam.

“And even when you do, nobody knows how afraid you are. You hide it well.”

“Not from Dean and not from you.” said Sam.

“Would you want us to be fooled?” said Cas.

“You would worry less.” said Sam, “You know, if I’d never been born, Dean would have lived a normal life.”

“Yes, that’s true.” said Cas, “And the apocalypse would have gone ahead as it was intended to and countless people you two saved would have died horrible, unnecessary deaths.”

“I know. I know it’s all been worth it, but I still know that it was my existence that blighted Dean’s life.”

“Blighted it, or made it meaningful? You really think your brother was destined to clean carburettors?”

“I’d like him to have had the choice.” Sam had said.

His finger hovered over Dean’s name on the phone screen, but he could not call. It was late. Dean was probably asleep and this feeling he had that Dean needed him was no more than the habit of a devoted brother who knew how hard it was to face certain demons, literal and metaphorical. 

Instead, he put the phone aside, closed his eyes and said, “I know you are and I know you always will, Cas, but look after him and, when you get a chance, let me know that he’s okay.”

He was just drifting off to sleep again when his phone vibrated loudly on the nightstand. He picked it up. The text merely said, “All’s well. Back tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Cas.” he prayed.


	29. Chapter 29

Dean slept fitfully. What dreams he had were dark and troublesome and he kept waking. In some ways, he wished he had never told Cas the worst thing. He believed Cas would not tell Sam, but Cas knew it now and however much he tried to put a positive spin on it, it would at some point enter his mind that it showed a side to Dean that was not good.

He remembered a lot of the things Cas had said. It surprised him how they stuck in his mind. His own arguments against the accusations of his conscience tended to blur and fall away. In one of the dreams of Hell, Castiel appeared and said to him, “Don’t be afraid. There is a way out of here.” Instantly suspicious, he had woken, assuming Cas was deliberately invading his dreams, but Cas was on the couch, fiddling with his cellphone.

“What are you doing?” said Dean.

“Texting Sam.” said Cas, “I just told him we’ll be back tomorrow.”

Dean felt overwhelming dread. “We can’t.” he said.

Cas turned on the main light. “I thought you wanted us to go back.”

“Yeah.” said Dean, getting up. “Does Sam need us?”

“No,” said Cas, “But I think you need Sam.”

“After all the stuff I told you last night?” said Dean.

“That’s why you need Sam. If you’re not ready to go back, I can tell him we changed our minds, but at some point, you’ll need to go to the bunker.”

“And face Sam.”

“Who knows nothing about what you said.” said Cas.

Dean sat beside Cas. “The truth is, I’m not sure I can get a lid on all this stuff by tomorrow. Right now, I’m a wreck. What am I supposed to tell him when he asks what’s wrong?”

“I know it’s a wild idea, but how about the truth?”

“What, that I didn’t care if he became my next victim?”

“No, although you could tell him that. He’d understand.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” said Dean.

“Tell him talking about Hell brought up some issues you need to process. Tell him you need some time. Admit to your brother that you’re human. What are you afraid of? That he’ll figure out that you’re not invulnerable?”

“He knows that better than anyone.” said Dean.

“So why try to hide it? If you tell him that you’re struggling, he can help.”

“Help how, when I can’t tell him anything?”

“What would you do if he told you he was wrestling with something he couldn’t talk about?” said Cas.

“Feel useless and helpless and shut out of his life.” said Dean.

“You’d leave him to suffer?”

“Of course not!” said Dean.

“Of course not. You’d tell him you were there for him, whether he could talk to you or not. You’d make him feel safe. You’d give him encouragement. Why not give him the chance to do the same for you?”

“What about everyone else in the bunker?” said Dean.

“Well, Mary might notice something. If necessary, I can make some excuse for you being a little out of sorts. I can just tell her you didn’t sleep well. That’s true, after all.”

Dean straightened his right sleeve, giving himself something to look at other than the eyes that were watching him with such concern. He felt as if the honesty between them in the past couple of days had brought them closer together and should have made further openness easier, but it also made things awkward. He had bared his soul to Cas, mostly the broken, shameful parts and he was afraid to test their friendship further by admitting why he was afraid to go home.

He took a breath and said, “Maybe I need to go away for a bit.”

“Away where?” said Cas.

“I don’t know. Jody, maybe. Donna?”

“Or some motel where nobody will care if you never leave the room?” said Cas.

“Just for a couple of days, until I can get myself together.” said Dean, “I didn’t expect talking about this stuff to make it so hard to seem okay.”

“And you need to seem okay?”

“Of course I do. Otherwise, I just worry a lot of people. People who, frankly, have more important issues to worry about than whether I’m playing with a full deck.”

“It’s your choice, of course ... ” said Cas.

“But you think it’s the dumbest idea you ever heard.” said Dean.

“No, I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?” said Dean, looking up. It was the last adjective he wanted from Cas.

“The way you put your own needs aside to protect others from ever having to consider your feelings. It’s adorable. It’s also really stupid, because those same people would feel so much better if they were allowed to show you any kind of support at all and they feel like the Superman act is because you don’t want them too involved in your life, but it’s sweet and it comes from a selfless heart, even if it seems to come from a colossal ego.”

“You know why I can’t let them see what a mess I am right now.”

“I know why you can’t tell them everything about it.” said Cas.

“If they see this, you think they won’t ask everything about it?”

“You need rest and you need perspective. Let me put you to sleep and we’ll discuss it in the morning.”

“Give me my phone first.” said Dean. As soon as it was in his hands, he called Sam.

“Dean?” said Sam.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” said Dean, trying to make his voice sound normal and succeeding in sounding irritated, which was better than scared.

“I was.” said Sam, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” said Dean, “I just wanted to say ...” He looked at Cas, who offered no suggestion. “Sam, it’s been a rough few days. I know you need me at the top of my game and I know there’s a lot to be done with our new friends, but I’m not as clear-headed as I should be and I could be a liability for a few days, so if ...”

“Dean, I understand.” said Sam, “Just come home tomorrow and we’ll talk then.”

Dean shook his head. He was sure that if Sam even suspected the stuff he had told Cas, he would never trust Dean again or believe that Dean had ever cared about him. He wished there were something he could say that would innoculate his brother against any future revelation of the truth, but anything he said would merely hint at it and Sam would only need a hint to work it out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sammy.” he said.

“Why are you still awake?” said Sam.

“Long talk.” he said.

“That’s good.” said Sam.

“Yeah.” said Dean, “Tomorrow.”

“Okay.” said Sam, “Get some sleep.”

Dean put the phone in his pocket and went over to the bed. “Wake me in three hours.” he said to Cas.

“Are you sure that’s long enough?”

“I’ll need time to clean up, remember how sane feels, all that kind of thing.” He got onto the bed.

Cas came over and reached out his hand. Dean felt himself back away. It was as automatic as it was foolish. He smiled an apology at Cas and then fell asleep at his touch.


	30. Chapter 30

Sam had breakfast with his mother. He was happy with his calm, untroubled act. He was fairly confident that he was giving nothing away. He ate his oatmeal and drank his coffee and nothing gave the slightest sign that he was deeply worried about Dean.

He had hoped that Dean and Cas would be away a few more days. It seemed unlikely that they had covered much that quickly, but any progress was progress and Dean had sounded, in his slightly disturbing phone call, as if they had touched on some significant stuff.

He realised his mother was talking to him and said, “Sorry? Still half asleep. What did you say?”

“Bobby said you were organising ID for our friends.”

He smiled, “Yes. Should be ready soon. It’s been pretty easy. Most of them officially exist, which cuts out a lot of steps.”

“You and Dean have so many tricks we never thought of in my day.” she said.

He smiled at her. “Mom, this is your day.”

“You know what I mean. Should I be worried that you have all the skills of master criminals?”

“No. We were raised right.” he said, “Actually, most of that kind of tricks, we got from Dad. He was good. He had a kind of genius for hunting. He taught us well.”

“He certainly did.” she said.

Jack charged into the room. “They’re back!”

“Who’s back?” said Mary. More than one of the offworlders were out of the bunker.

“Castiel and Dean.” said Jack.

Sam looked at his watch. “Already?” he said. He hadn’t honestly expected Dean to be awake by 8:23, much less back at the bunker.

“They can’t have been around many cabins in that time.” said Mary.

“I don’t know.” said Sam, “They make a good team and they were only checking supplies.” He went to greet them. 

Cas gave him a look that suggested he should treat Dean with care. “Dean,” he said, “Can we talk for a minute?” He glanced at his mother and Jack and said, “Admin stuff.”

“Yeah.” said Dean. He flashed a smile at the others and then headed to Sam’s room. 

As the door closed behind them, Sam said, “Not asking anything, not prying at all. I just want to say ...” He grabbed Dean’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug. Dean hugged back. “Thanks for talking to Cas, Dean. I know you hated the idea and I know you don’t think it can help, but you did it anyway and that means everything to me.”

Usually, Dean would have pulled away by that point. Sam was a little worried by how tightly he clung, but then, as if sensing that the hug had lasted too long, Dean stepped back and said, “It was okay. You were right. Cas is a good listener. Whether it will help or not, I don’t know, but maybe some of the darker stuff has lost a little of its power already.”

“You only know how much it’s weighing you down when you can finally share the burden with someone else.” said Sam.

“I didn’t think sharing it with Cas would do anything good.” said Dean, “I thought he might be so shocked he’d never speak to me again.”

“You seriously thought anything could make him desert you?”

“Nothing in my career as a torturer in Hell was anything to be proud of.” said Dean. He avoided Sam’s gaze.

“It’s okay.” said Sam, “I get it, Dean. It’s hard to think about that stuff. It messes you up. I know we agreed not to talk about it to each other, but if you need to talk, I’m here. And if talking to me isn’t possible, I’m still here. If you just want to hang out and drink beer and say nothing, that’s fine too.”

Dean looked at him, still avoiding eye contact. “You look tired.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, Dean, so do you. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Did you?” Dean asked. 

Sam was getting more and more concerned about the avoidance of eye contact and the fact that Dean was saying so little. He remembered how troubled Dean had sounded during the phone call. He had said he would be a liability. 

Sam could not remember another time when Dean had suggested he might not be able to fulfil his share of responsibilities. Sam was both glad that Dean felt able to confess weakness and disturbed that he had reached a level of exhaustion or mental turmoil at which he felt he had to do so.

“Dean, I got this.” he said, “You take as much time as you need. I’ll tell everyone you’re working in the archives. Just keep a couple of books around you, nobody’ll notice a thing.”

“You shouldn’t have to cover for me.” said Dean. He looked and sounded wiped out, shattered.

“It’s what I’m here for.” said Sam. He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay, really. Look after yourself for once and let me worry about everything else.”

“I’m fine.” said Dean.

Sam smiled. “I’ll pretend I believe that. I’ll make sure nobody else has a reason to doubt it. Just remember that you don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“Thanks.” said Dean. He turned to go, then suddenly turned back and hugged Sam. “I know this stuff isn’t easy. I know I don’t make it any easier. I love you, Sammy.”

“I love you too.” said Sam, “Just take things easy, okay?”

“I will.” said Dean, “You take care of yourself too and talk to Cas some more.”


	31. Chapter 31

Cas went into Dean’s room and put the knife and gun beside his bed. It was pointless to keep them. Dean had a full armoury on his bedroom wall. Whatever rash thoughts had come to him in the middle of a terrible night were not going to overcome his sense of duty. Just to be sure, Cas scribbled a note and left it by the gun. It said, “I trust you. Don’t make me regret it. Cas.”

He left the room and went to the garage to unload the car. Jack soon joined him there.

“That is a lot of whisky.” said Jack.

“Dean believes in supporting small, family-run liquor stores.” said Cas.

Jack picked up a box. “Food store?”

“We’ll just stack them here, for now.” said Cas. He didn’t want to interact with the other residents of the bunker, especially the ones who gave him wary looks because of past experiences with angels. He took out the fresh food. “You could take that to the kitchen for me.”

Jack smiled and took it away, leaving Cas alone and feeling more alone than he had in a long time. He had told Sam and Dean that he could handle their memories of Hell and he could, but seeing what those memories did to them was devastating and he hated every moment of it. Seeing Dean fighting so vehemently against any mitigation, any justification, any forgiveness broke his heart. Sam’s resignation to a lifetime of being haunted by the knowledge that Lucifer still existed was bad too, but at least Sam didn’t feel he deserved it.

Sam had other issues around self-esteem. Dean’s struggles mattered, his own did not. He would repeatedly push his problems aside for his brother’s sake. Cas admired selflessness, but he wished that Sam didn’t take it to such extremes.

Jack came back. “Anything else to carry?” he said.

Cas smiled at him. “No, that’s all for now. Dean can collect his stuff later.” 

“Did you and Dean talk about the stuff you agreed to talk about that is confidential and nothing to do with me?” said Jack.

“We did.” said Cas.

“Sam’s worried about Dean, you’re worried about Sam and Dean. I’m worried about all three of you.”

“All three of us are fine.” said Cas, “Dean just needs a little time.”

“And what do you need?” said Jack.

“Angels are pretty resilient.” said Cas.

“What happened to not lying to me?” said Jack. He looked hurt.

Cas quickly said, “That’s not what this is, Jack. This is more ...”

“You lying to yourself?”

“That kind of thing, yes.” said Cas, “You see, the whole point of my being here until you came along was to help Sam and Dean, to protect them, heal them, defend them, die for them, if necessary. Then you became my priority and they fell to second on the list, but that doesn’t mean they need me any less. It just means that you need me more. My own needs come a distant third to all of that.”

“That’s God’s will?” said Jack.

“I really don’t know, but it’s how things are.”

Jack looked thoughtful. “It doesn’t seem very fair. What kind of life does that leave you?”

“Angels were designed for service, not happiness.”

“Have you ever read the Constitution?” said Jack. 

Castiel smiled at the swift change of subject. Jack’s mind was nimble and inquisitive and he might notice things he was not meant to, but he also jumped from one subject to another with little warning.

“Yes, I have.” he said, “It’s a remarkable document.”

“It is. I got Mary to explain about slavery and emancipation.”

“Humanity has made some great leaps recently.” said Cas.

“Slave owners thought their slaves were designed by God for service, not happiness.” said Jack, “Slaves went after happiness anyway. They sang, they danced, they fell in love. You don’t do any of those things.”

“If you ever saw me dance or heard me sing, you would be glad I don’t do those things.” said Cas.

“You believe in free will for everyone but yourself.” said Jack.

“I freely choose to be here, with my family.” said Cas.

“You don’t seem happy.” said Jack.

“My happiness is a work in progress. I’ll get there.” said Cas.

“I see why you and Dean get along so well.” said Jack, “You’re very alike.”

“Remember that angels are not supposed to feel much of anything.” said Cas. “I’m not as angelic as I was. For a time, I was virtually human. Even now, I am evolving into something quite different. I am not what I was a thousand years ago. I am not what I was the day I met Dean Winchester. I hope I am better, but that is, I suppose, a matter of opinion. I’m trying to be better. I’m trying to do some good, consciously and deliberately, to make up for the evil I did in error. I may not seem happy, but I am hopeful. And hopeful is good.”

“What do you think you are becoming?” said Jack, “More human?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t want that. I wouldn’t be as good a human as those who are born to it. I think I am becoming more Castiel, possibly more Winchester.”

“But you’re not happy about it.” said Jack.

“I’m happy about that. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Everyone does and no-one will tell me about it.” said Jack, “But I know who you will talk to.”

“Jack, don’t bother the Winchesters with any of this.” said Cas, “They have a lot to deal with.”

“And you’re just an angel.” said Jack, “So you’re not worth their time? Not looking good for me, the half-angel.”

“You are more than angel, more than archangel.” said Cas.

Jack looked at him for a few seconds and then said, “I just had a great idea.”

“What kind of idea?” said Cas warily.

“An idea to help Dean.”

“Jack, we need to fully discuss any idea concerning Dean before you implement it.”

“Yes, of course.” said Jack, “I just need to get something. Meet me in the Dean Cave in ten minutes.”

“That’s been locked since our guests came.” said Cas.

Jack smiled. “Locks don’t really apply to me, Castiel.” He left before Cas could form an objection.


	32. Chapter 32

Dean was in Room 8, a pile of files and folders from the stored archives on the desk in front of him. Anyone who came there would find him apparently busy. His head was full of confusion that would ensure he did nothing useful for some time. He was grateful to Sam for the excuse, but it didn’t feel right that he was doing nothing to make things better around the place. Sam already seemed overburdened and he was letting Dean take time off. It seemed indefensible. His only excuse for going along with it was that he was a wreck.

When he heard someone knock on the door, he pulled a folder over and started to stare at a document on warding against witchcraft. “Who is it?” he said.

The door opened and Jack came in, closing the door behind him. “It’s me.” he said, “I need your help.”

The words had an almost magical effect. Emotional turmoil and the associated self-care was outside his comfort zone, but being needed was like a switch flicking on in his head. He was responsible for his family and one of them was asking for his help. “What’s the problem, Jack?” he said, putting his non-existent work aside.

Jack seemed relieved not to be sent away. “It’s Castiel.” he said, “He’s saying everything’s fine, but it’s not and ... ”

“Of course it’s not.” said Dean, standing up. “I knew all this would be too much for him.”

“All what?” said Jack. He looked suddenly apologetic. “All the stuff Castiel won’t tell me. Sorry. I don’t mean to ask questions about that.”

“It’s okay, kid.” said Dean, “It’s nothing personal. We’re not trying to keep secrets from you. It’s just we don’t want you having to keep secrets from anyone else. You just need to know that Cas has been helping us deal with our past issues and didn’t know that it would screw him up. How bad is he?”

“He says he’s hopeful, not happy. He says he’s not an angel now, but becoming something else, more himself. He says a lot of good things, but I feel like he’s lost and confused and sad. I asked him to meet me in the Dean Cave in a few minutes.”

“He can’t.” said Dean, “It’s locked.”

“Not anymore.” said Jack.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You have interesting skills, Jack.”

“You’re not upset, I hope.”

“It wasn’t locked to keep you out.” he said, “In fact, we need to get keys for you, Cas and Sam. Not a problem. I’ll get that done.”

“Who did you want to keep out?” said Jack.

“Everyone who isn’t us.” said Dean, “Look, I’m all for sharing the bunker with other people, so long as they kick ass and don’t screw us over, but we need a place for us. Think of it as our locker room.”

Jack nodded. “What about Mary?”

“She can come in there, but only we have keys. You understand? Team Free Will only.”

Jack nodded, “I understand.”

“Now, let’s go fix the broken angel.”

“You’ll probably want me out of the way,” said Jack, “So I don’t hear anything I shouldn’t. I think I should send Sam to join you and Cas. He needs both of you.”

“That’s a very good idea.” said Dean.

“You should know that Cas might be angry. I told him I’d be there. He thinks we’re going to discuss something else.”

“I’m impressed. You’re getting better at lying.”

“Well, it was only a partial lie. I told him I had a way to help you.”

“To help me what?” said Dean.

“Just generally to help you.” said Jack, “And this will help you, because Cas thinks you need time, but I think you need someone to save and Cas needs someone to save him. Seems perfect, right?”

“Does Cas talk a lot about me?” said Dean, starting to worry.

“No, not at all.” said Jack, “He tries very hard not to say anything behind your back. Cas doesn’t talk a lot about anything. He tries to keep the whole universe spinning on his own because he doesn’t want to be a nuisance to anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s our Cas alright.” said Dean, “Don’t worry, Jack. We’ll take care of this.”


	33. Chapter 33

Dean went into the Dean Cave, closed the door behind him and said to Cas as he rose from his seat, “Stay right where you are.”

“I didn’t unlock the door.” said Cas, sitting back down.

“I know. Jack did.”

“Jack should not have bothered you.” said Cas, “He’s young and doesn’t understand the situation.”

“What situation is that?” said Dean, “The situation where you’re burning out trying to make Hell less hellish for the rest of us?” He almost pointed out that he had said it would not be a good idea, but he didn’t. “It shouldn’t be Jack’s job to let us know something’s wrong.”

“I never asked Jack to say anything.” said Cas, “In fact, I told him ... ”

“Yeah, I know what you told him.” said Dean. He realised he was sounding critical and he didn’t want to. “It’s my fault.” he said, “I should have seen how bad it made you feel.”

“Don’t say that.” said Cas.

Sam came into the room. He looked from one to the other and said to Dean, “Are you sure you should be involved with this right now?” 

“Of course I should.” said Dean, “It’s Cas.”

“Okay.” said Sam. He sat beside Cas. “How are you feeling, Cas?”

“I’m fine.” said Cas.

“I hate that word.” said Dean.

Sam raised a hand in front of him. “Dean, wait. Cas, I’m asking again, as agreed in the Pact. How are you really?”

“Really fine.” said Cas, “I think.” He looked at the floor. “It’s possible I don’t know, but Jack doesn’t know either. He’s a child.”

Dean remembered an angel accusing him that his very touch corrupted angels. He was beginning to think that being too close to any humans was dangerous to them, but especially being around two humans whose lives were such a mess of negative emotions. “You were meant for Heaven.” he said, “And I’ve been dragging you through Hell. Of course you can’t handle it.”

“Heaven isn’t my home.” said Cas, “This place is. And you’re my family and if I can’t help you, then I have nothing.”

“You do help us.” said Sam, “You are helping us.”

“Don’t ask me to stop.” said Cas.

“Nobody is asking that.” said Sam.

“We’re not?” said Dean. He saw Sam’s swift shake of the head and quickly said, “We’re not. We just need you to ...” He looked at Sam.

“We need you to factor your feelings into everything. This is difficult for all of us, because of all the promises not to pry into each other’s Hell, but that doesn’t mean we get to trap you in yours. Now, please, stop trying not to worry us and tell us, from the heart, what’s wrong and what we need to do to make it right.” said Sam.

Cas looked at him. “I don’t know.” he said.

“Something is hurting you, Cas.” said Sam gently, “Just tell us what it is.”

“It’s not hard to figure it out.” said Dean, “I told him about my Hell and it was too much for him, as I always thought it would be, because he always says he can handle it, because he’s a cool, detached angel above human pain, but the truth is, he has always suffered when humans do. He can’t help it.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” said Cas.

“Who else are we going to blame, Cas?” said Dean, “I saw how the things I said got to you.”

“You’re wrong.” said Cas quietly.

Sam put his hand on Cas’s arm and said, “Take your time, Cas. Tell us in your own words. We just want to help.”

“Yeah, buddy,” said Dean, “Just talk to us.” He went to stand beside Cas, his hand on the back of the seat.

“It’s nothing.” said Cas.

“Jack doesn’t think so.” said Dean. Sam gave him a warning look.

“Dean shouldn’t be here.” said Cas, “It’s been an intense few days and he needs time to recover before he gets involved in other people’s problems.”

“Other people’s problems are my rest cure.” said Dean.

“We both need to help you.” said Sam, “So does Jack and he’s only staying away right now because he wants us all to be able to speak freely.”

“On the subject of Jack,” said Dean, “I’m guessing having to keep things from him is part of the problem, so he’s an exception as far as I’m concerned. Try to keep it age-appropriate, well, you know what I mean. Don’t dwell on the dark stuff because he doesn’t need that in his life, but what you need to tell him, you can tell him.”

“Same here.” said Sam, “I trust Jack not to talk and I trust Dean not to exploit Jack’s trust to ask about it.”

“Thanks.” said Cas, “I think that will make things easier. He won’t want details.”

They both waited for him to say more. after a while, Sam said, “I wish I could read your mind. I wish I could just find what hurts and fix it.”

There was another long pause, then Cas said, “What hurts is failing you two. You’d think, after a while, after so many repeated failures, it would be something I could get used to.”

“The last time you failed us, it was by dying.” said Dean, “And that was hardly your fault.”

“The last time I failed you was in the early hours of this morning, when I increased your suffering to no purpose.” said Cas, “I wanted to help, but I don’t think anything I put you through helped much. I just tortured you more.”

Dean looked at Sam. Sam looked as helpless as he felt. They were trapped in the web of things they could not say in front of each other.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” said Cas, misinterpreting the silence as agreement.

“Dean, you told me it helped a little, right?” said Sam, “That some of the bad stuff had lost some of its power over you?”

Dean looked from his encouraging brother to the unhappy angel and decided he should stop being so weak and say something honest.

“I hate everything about Hell.” he said, “I hate confronting my own weakness and talking about it to anyone. I buried it as deep as I could for years and I did all I could to avoid ever having to deal with it. I had good reasons. I had great reasons. I still do.”

“And I made you confront all the horror of it.” said Cas.

“No. No, my friend, you made it possible for me to confront it. When I was paralysed with fear, you were right there beside me, telling me, over and over, that you were never planning to ditch me, that you would stand with me whatever happened, whatever I confessed. Hell scares me. The memories hurt too much to ever be faced without ... without a strong friend at my side, who can pull me out of the darkness and tell me that the darkness didn’t take me over. I’m a hard person to help, Cas, and you helped me.”

“More than I hurt you?” said Cas, searching his eyes.

“You didn’t hurt me.” said Dean, “Alistair and Lilith hurt me. You were just there when I went through some of it again.” He looked at his brother, then back to the angel. “Being there was hard, wasn’t it, Cas? And I didn’t make it any easier. I never do.”

“Whenever it became too much for you, I felt like I had failed you.”

“Well, I can tell you that you didn’t. I expected you to. I was sure, at some point, you would decide I was not worth saving. You hugged me when I thought you would turn away and never speak to me again. You hugged me and I couldn’t tell you what it meant, because my life has left me with a limited ability to express love and gratitude. Even now, I’m trying to put into words how it felt and I can’t. When I felt least worthy of your friendship, you hugged me. When I couldn’t offer a single defence of all the things I did, you forgave me. When I needed you, more than I ever had before, you were there.”


	34. Chapter 34

Sam put his arm around Cas’s shoulders. He could see that Dean’s words meant a lot to Castiel, but he wanted to add his unconditional support. “You help both of us, all the time.” he said, “And even though you came into the family late, I can’t really remember or imagine a time without you. Well, that’s not true. I remember when you were dead and Dean seemed to die with you and I tried to believe there was still hope, for Jack’s sake and Dean’s and I was falling apart because you weren’t there to keep me sane.”

“The entity that rules the Empty tried to tell me there was nothing for me here.” said Cas.

“It lied.” said Dean, “Your family is here.”

“Yes.” said Cas.

“You came back to us.” said Sam, “You came back and we could think about a future again and we had hope of saving Mom and we knew Jack would be okay. Jack is okay because of you.”

“Also Dean.” said Dean.

“And Sam.” Sam admitted, “Everything good this family has, we have because of you. The bad stuff is all other people.”

“Give or take the odd Leviathan.” said Cas.

“What happened to the past being in the past?” said Dean, “Stop beating yourself up about stuff that’s over and done with.”

Cas looked at Dean. Sam saw the eloquent rebuke in his eyes.

So did Dean, apparently. “Yeah, okay, probably not a lot of room to preach on that one, but friends don’t let friends do the stupid things friends know they do themselves.” He turned to Sam, “Okay, that was not a great speech. You talk again now, college boy.”

“Sounded pretty good to me.” said Sam. He turned to Cas again. “You know how often I’ve messed up and how badly. I trusted Ruby.”

“I trusted Zachariah.” said Cas.

“I didn’t trust anyone.” said Dean, “Does that mean I win? Oh no, wait. I started the damn apocalypse.”

“You were not to blame for that!” said Cas.

“Yeah, every single time, Cas. Every time I say that stuff, you defend me.”

“Because you are wrong every time.” said Cas.

Sam squeezed his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, Castiel, you’ve made mistakes. We all have. Every choice you ever made was for all the right reasons. You rebelled against Heaven because Heaven was wrong. You fought Raphael because he was corrupt.”

“I broke the wall in your mind.” said Cas, “What was my excuse then?”

Dean moved to crouch in front of him. “Saving the world. You did it the wrong way and it was dumb and Sam got hurt, but your intentions were the best. You fixed Sam and screwed your own mind, so no recriminations here.”

“I trusted Naomi and Metatron.”

“We’ve all trusted the wrong people.” said Dean, “Being trusting is not a crime. Being trustworthy is what matters. Sam and I know that we can trust you. It’s why I don’t need to ask him about the Lucifest in his head, because he’s talking to you and I can trust you to help him through it.”

“And I know I can trust you to help Dean.” said Sam, “And he trusted you enough to tell you the stuff he can’t tell me. You’ve helped Mom to feel she can be around here a lot more and you’re exactly the guidance Jack needs and you make it possible for Dean and me to keep going and to work through stuff we couldn’t handle on our own. Don’t ever think you’re not helping, Cas, you’re about all that ever does.”

Dean stood and started pacing, as uncomfortable with the words that came to him as he was desperate to speak them. “Even now, even this, Cas, is helping me. When we got back, I was shell-shocked. Sam gave me a place to hide, but I was just sitting there, trying to remember how to people. Then Jack said you needed me and I snapped out of it and I stopped wallowing. Right now, I feel pretty good. I just need you to feel good too.”

“I’m going to suggest a codicil.” said Sam.

“I don’t know where he picks up this dirty stuff, I really don’t.” said Dean.

“For the Pact.” said Sam, “If we are going to continue talking about Hell to Cas ...”

“Please don’t give up.” said Cas.

“And I think we should,” said Sam, “We should make sure we check in on him after. All three of us, like this, so we can address anything bad.”

“I agree.” said Dean, “We can’t assume Cas is going to say anything if we don’t ask directly. I say we have regular angel audits.”

“Could we call it something else?” said Cas, “Only that’s a real thing and I don’t like them.”

“Yeah, they don’t sound fun.” said Sam.

“Understatement.” said Cas.

“Team Talks?” said Dean.

“That’s better.” said Cas.

“But whatever we call it,” said Sam, “We give Cas time and attention and we make sure he’s okay.”

Dean nodded. “Agreed. And Cas, if you need anything ... anything at all, you can tell us.”

“Sometimes I don’t really know what I need.” said Cas.

“Then tell us that.” said Dean, “We’ve all drunk at that saloon.”

“But now we know what we need.” said Sam, “It’s you, Cas.”

Cas stood up, awkwardly. “I should go and ... do something.” he said. 

Dean hugged him. “Yeah, you do something. Do something fun. Laugh a little.”

As Dean let him go, Sam hugged him. “We’re here, Cas, always.”

“Except when you’re somewhere else.” said Cas.

“Yeah, you literal bastard, except then.” said Sam, “But then we’re somewhere else for you.”


	35. Chapter 35

Dean decided to take advantage of his clearer head and let his mother see him being himself. He found her in the library, with Jack, reading about warding sigils.

“Hey, you two.” he said.

“Sam said you were down in the dusty archives.” she said.

“Yeah, taking a quick break.” he said, “You get some of those memorised, Jack. They can be very useful.”

“How many work against nephilim?” said Jack.

“That we’ve found so far?” said Dean, “None.”

“Cool.” said Jack.

“Yeah, unless you go darkside.”

“Which he won’t.” said Mary.

“Of course he won’t.” said Dean. He could see that Jack wanted to ask about Castiel, so he said, “I saw Cas just now. He’s very proud of you, Jack.”

Jack smiled. “I try to make him proud.” he said.

Mary straightened Dean’s shirt collar. “Have you eaten since you got back?” she said.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he said, “I took some snacks to the archives. I also had a big breakfast. Cas doesn’t let people go hungry.”

“Good!” said Mary, “I’m glad someone is looking after you.”

“Mom, I look after me.” he said, “I am always my number one priority. Right, Jack?”

Jack looked at him in confusion. “Well ...”

“When I say, ‘Right, Jack?’ the only correct response is ‘Right!’ Right, Jack?”

“Er ... right?” said Jack.

Dean grinned. “The delivery needs work, but you’ve got the vocab.” He looked at Mary, “The kid has unlimited potential.” He remembered when that had been a terrifying concept. Now it was just a source of pride, made even better by the way Jack’s face lit up at the thought. 

Mary patted Jack’s shoulder. “Take a break, Jack. Get some lunch.”

Jack left them. Mary looked at Dean and said, “Don’t worry. I choose not to be too curious. You’re not a child and I have no right to know every thought in your head.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you that you should know.” he said.

“That’s not as reassuring as you seem to think.” she said.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” he said, “An angel is watching over me.”

“After Apocalypse World, that’s not overly reassuring either.” she said.

“Well, this angel, I would trust with my life.” said Dean.

“So, what are you looking for in the archives? Anything I can help with?”

“You’re a hunter, not a librarian.” he said.

“I’d have said the same about you.” she said, “I just thought it might be a way to spend some time together. I missed you, when you were away.”

He smiled at her. “I promise, Mom, when there’s some free time around here, we’ll spend a lot of it together. Trust me, a few years from now, you’ll be sick of the sight of me.”

“No, Dean, that day will never come. I’ve loved you since before you were born.” She stroked his cheek. “Of course, you were a lot smaller and cuter as a baby.”

“Smaller, yes,” he said, “But I get cuter every day.”

“That’s a lie.” said Sam as he walked in.

“Where’s Cas?” said Dean.

“My room, watching Netflix.” said Sam, “Which means I’ll get a load of recommendations for documentaries about cats.”

“Is something wrong with Castiel?” said Mary.

“No, nothing like that.” said Dean, “He just gets a kind of ...”

“Sensory overload.” said Sam, “Being around people too much. He needs some quiet time.”

She looked at Dean. “Sounds like you’re watching over angels.”

“Aside from our untrained nephilim, Cas is the most powerful weapon we have.” said Dean, “We need to make sure he gets whatever he needs.”

“Yes,” she said, “It must be quite difficult for a denizen of Heaven to get used to sharing a bunker with you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” said Dean, “But I resent it.”

“She has a point.” said Sam, “I used a pair of your socks to stun a wendigo once.”

“No fighting.” she said firmly.

“No, Mom.” they said together.

She smiled. “Still got it.” she said.


	36. Chapter 36

When most of the bunker folk had gone to bed, Cas sent a text to Dean, Jack and Sam. It said, “Impala.” By the time he got to the car himself, the three of them were there.

“If you’re serious about me being allowed to tell Jack,” he said, “I think we should all be there and all not be here.”

Dean nodded and they got into the car. “Any preferred direction?” said Dean.

“Just keep us moving.” said Cas.

As they drove out into the darkness, Jack said, “What am I being told?”

“We’ll see.” said Dean, “But everything said in this car tonight is going to be the truth.”

Cas began, “When I told you I had agreed with Dean to discuss something, that something was the time Dean spent in Hell.”

“Actual Hell?” said Jack.

“Actual, real, blood and bone and fire Hell.” said Dean.

“How did you end up in Hell?” said Jack, “I mean, you’re Dean Winchester.”

“Dean Winchester tends to die a lot.” said Sam.

“But Hell is for bad people.” said Jack.

“Well, I don’t claim to be a good one ... ” said Dean.

“You said we wouldn’t lie to him.” said Cas, “Dean is a good person and he went to Hell because of a demon deal to save Sam’s life.”

“But you said we don’t do demon deals, ever. You called that Rule Number One. You said that even before you told me never to offer Dean decaffeinated coffee.” said Jack.

“You needed to be told that?” said Dean.

“Cas is right.” said Sam, “Never do demon deals. We all agree, that’s an unbreakable rule. What was it you said, Dean? That only idiots do deals with demons?”

“Well, if I hadn’t, you’d be dead.” said Dean.

Cas interrupted. “Let’s not go over that argument again. The past being the past and everything.”

“Sorry,” said Sam.

“But yes,” said Cas, “We avoid deals with demons at all costs.”

“Unless we have no choice.” said Dean, “I had no choice, so I went to Hell and things happened in Hell and I came out a little messed up.”

“Then Sam was Lucifer’s destined vessel for the apocalypse ... “ said Cas.

“The first apocalypse.” said Sam.

“How many have there been?” said Jack.

“I don’t have precise figures on that.” said Dean, “It depends how you count. I’ll just go with ‘too many’ for now.”

“If you were Lucifer’s vessel,” said Jack to Sam, “How are you not dead or wrapped around Lucifer?”

“Because Sam fought Lucifer and won.” said Dean proudly.

“With a lot of help.” said Sam, “I managed to take control and I took Lucifer back to his cage. Which he didn’t like. At all. I also dragged Michael in who was wearing our half-brother at the time.”

“There’s another brother?” said Jack.

“Yes, but we haven’t found a way to rescue him yet.” said Dean. He started to speed up.

“I tried to talk to him, but two psychotic archangels got in the way a bit.” said Sam.

“We know where he is.” said Dean, “We just need a way to release him without also releasing Michael.”

“Dean is Michael’s true vessel.” said Sam.

Jack looked at Sam, his eyes wide. “You two are pretty central to the whole thing, aren’t you? We need to fortify the bunker a lot more.”

“Against what?” said Dean, “Michael is in a cage.”

“We’re working on it anyway.” said Cas, “Not worth taking any chances.”

“Anyway, Sam was rescued, eventually, first without his soul, later we got the soul back with help from Death.” said Dean, “Sorry, Jack, this is a lot more complicated than I thought.”

“And I was a little messed up too.” said Sam.

“To put it mildly.” said Dean.

“And they can’t talk to each other about it all, because there’s all kinds of irrational guilt attached for both of them and neither wants to hurt the other and I’m the only one who can’t be hurt by any of it ... ” said Cas.

“We weren’t going to lie.” said Sam.

“Fine, I am the one who will be hurt least by it.” said Cas, “So they agreed, when time and circumstance allow, they will talk to me about Hell.”

“And you’ve been listening to all of that for both of them?” said Jack.

“Yes, I have.” said Cas.

“Isn’t that like torture for you?” said Jack.

“Yes, it is.” said Dean, “And keeping it secret from you was making it worse, so we decided you should know.”

“And now that I know, I can help. I can listen too.” said Jack.

“No!” said all three together.

“But, I’d be fine.” said Jack.

“All the powers you possess would not protect you.” said Cas, “I have no innocence to lose and my heart is not easily broken. You are powerful, but very young and you have too much empathy.”

“Hell stuff is too dark for you.” said Dean.

“I’m the son of Lucifer.” said Jack.

“Not the part of your personality we really want to encourage.” said Sam.

“I don’t like unleashing this stuff on Cas,” said Dean, “I’m not about to share any of it with you.”

“Obviously, nobody else needs to know about this.” said Cas, “Mary knows that Sam went to Hell, but any mention of it would hurt her. She knows nothing about Dean going there.”

“There are a lot more secrets in this family than I anticipated.” said Jack.

“And that’s not even all of them.” said Dean, “Being a Winchester is complicated, but it’s worth it, because you get to ride around in this beauty and gank monsters.”

“I still can’t believe you were both tortured in Hell.” said Jack.

“A lot of things happened in Hell.” said Dean.

“And none of them were deserved by either of these two.” said Cas, more to Dean than to Jack.

“You don’t need to tell me that, Castiel. I already know.” said Jack.

The Impala’s speed increased a little more and Dean’s jaw tensed. Sam glanced uneasily at Cas, who smiled at Jack and said, “I wish everyone had your faith in the Winchesters. Above all, I wish the Winchesters did.”

“The Winchesters have a problem.” said Dean, “We know us.”


	37. Chapter 37

Outside the bunker, a soft autumnal morning was just beginning and Castiel was listening to the song of the wind as the sky became lighter. Everything in his life seemed lighter, now that he didn’t have to keep things from Jack. The boy was very good about not asking, but in some ways, that made it harder. Every relationship in his life was hedged around with the things that could not be said and that was how it had always been, even with the angels.

He had always believed his comrades in the Garrison were his good friends, but he had never spoken to them of doubt, because doubt was bad. He could talk to Dean about doubt, because Dean actively encouraged doubt and found blind faith, even in him, weak and foolish. There were other things, though, that he could not say to Dean.

Jack had been different from the start. Jack was open and honest and had no interest in judging anyone. He asked a lot of questions, but none of them were ever, “What kind of angel questions orders?” nor yet, “How can you trust anything you can’t control?” To keep things from him had seemed cruel and wrong, even when he knew secrets were being kept.

Cas heard the bunker door open and turned to see Sam coming out. “Beautiful morning.” said Sam.

“Yes, they all are.” said Cas.

“Are you out here because you want to be out here or because you don’t want to be in there?” said Sam, gesturing to the bunker.

Cas smiled. “I just wanted to see the dawn.”

Sam returned the smile. “Good. So, how are you doing, today?”

“Better.” said Cas, “I thought Jack handled all the revelations pretty well last night.”

“Yes, he did. I hope now you feel less alone in all this. I know you want to keep on helping us with that stuff, but we really couldn’t justify that if you were only going to suffer as we did.”

“I can’t suffer like that.” said Cas.

“I know, you’re an angel. You told Jack he had too much empathy.”

“To face all that, not in general.” said Cas, “I wouldn’t want him not to have empathy, it’s just that not having it turns out to be an advantage in this work.”

“Let’s take a walk.” said Sam, starting off down the road.

Cas joined him. “Don’t misunderstand. I greatly admire the human ability to feel another’s pain or joy, but when the pain comes right from Hell, I think not having the same perception of it is helpful. Jack is, in that respect, very human.”

“Cas, empathy is the reason why you find it so hard to watch Dean tormenting himself with all that stupid, pointless guilt. Empathy is the reason why you want to help us in the first place. I’ve seen your empathy paralyse you. I’ve seen you crushed by it. It’s not that angels don’t have the capacity for empathy, it’s that they have no idea how to deal with it. Look what it did to Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?”

“The only archangel who chose to be around humans. He acquired a lot of humanity, the good and the bad, in angelic terms, utterly corrupted, but I’d call him the best of the archangels.” Sam looked at Cas and Cas nodded his agreement. Sam went on, “The way I see it, angels and archangels have as much capacity for empathy as we do, but it only gets triggered if you spend time with humans and the more time you spend with us, the more you feel all those emotions you think you don’t have. It’s not a bad thing, but not always an easy one. You dealt with it by pretending it was impossible, Gabriel by plunging into hedonism and instant gratification.”

“And porn stars.” said Cas with distaste.

“And porn stars.” said Sam, “Trust me, I know how appealing life without feelings can be. I lived it for a while and things got a lot simpler and a lot less painful.”

“Entirely my fault.” said Cas.

Sam stopped walking. “Cut that out right now. Don’t Dean this thing.”

“Is to Dean a verb?” said Cas.

“Dean is a whole heap of verbs.” said Sam, “Mostly things you shouldn’t do if you want to take good care of your mental and physical health. It’s not your fault I spent a little time soulless and maybe that’s not wholly a bad thing anyway. At least I now know how it feels to live without emotion.”

“Simpler, you said.” said Cas.

“Yes, but also colourless, disconnected, empty. If you and I had no emotions, Jack and Dean would mean nothing to us. We wouldn’t be friends. I don’t think that would be better.”

“No.” said Cas, “Simpler sounds better, but Heaven was simple. I’ll take this confusing, imperfect, damaged and painful world every time. And I’ll take you and Dean with all the horrors of Hell rather than lead a life of peace and joy without you.”

Sam smiled and started walking again. “Spoken like a true Winchester.”

Cas watched Sam walking, sometimes getting too far ahead, then slowing, restricting his stride-length to keep in step as much as he could. It was typical of Sam’s automatic kindness. Cas decided to say something that he would usually have kept to himself. “Sometimes,” he said, “I’m afraid that I am changing into something I don’t understand.” He felt silly as soon as he had said it. It seemed so feeble and foolish and he was troubling Sam with it, who had the affairs of two worlds to deal with.

“It’s part of life.” said Sam, “We’re all changing, all the time and none of us has a clue how we’ll end up. The more you engage with life, the more you’ll notice the changes.”

“Is it supposed to be so disturbing?” said Cas.

“I think it is for everyone.” said Sam, “Of course, you have the added difficulty that you have thought of yourself as eternal and unchanging. To be honest, Dean has that issue too. I’ve always lurched from one sudden change to another. I have the opposite problem. For a lot of my life, I didn’t see myself as having a fixed identity at all.”

“Has that changed?” said Cas.

Sam shrugged. “I think it’s changing, like everything else. I think I’m growing into Sam Winchester, but a few things still don’t fit right.”


	38. Chapter 38

Dean had slept better than usual and his dreams had mostly been good ones. Talking honestly to Jack had felt good. It was fairer to both Jack and Cas than leaving the kid in the dark and he had taken some fairly troubling information very well. Most importantly, there was now less pressure on Cas. After everything he had put Cas through at the cabin, that was the least he could do.

He was beginning to think that taking care of Cas might be the answer to everyone’s problems. He needed to feel useful, Sam always needed someone to help, Cas definitely needed a lot more care and attention than they usually gave him and Jack’s boundless enthusiasm would better be used for helping Cas than trying to come between either Winchester and the memories of Hell. With a little work, Dean felt he could even make Cas feel he was helping Dean. Cas was filled with heavenly wisdom, long ages of study and the gullibility of a toddler.

There was a tentative knock on the door. “Come in, Jack!” he said.

Jack came in, carrying a tray. “I brought you breakfast.” he said.

Dean frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s morning.” said Jack, looking confused.

“I don’t mean why breakfast,” said Dean, “I mean why are you bringing it to me? Pity?” He regretted saying it immediately. Jack had done a nice thing and he was behaving as if it were an insult. “Sorry.” he said, “Thanks for the breakfast.”

Jack smiled. “Everyone seems to be in the kitchen right now. There isn’t room to move. I thought you wouldn’t like that much.”

“You’re a good kid.” said Dean, “Ignore me. Mornings are not my best time.”

“When is your best time?” said Jack.

“May 2nd, 1983.” said Dean, “That was a good time.”

“Oh.” Jack looked at the guns on the wall. “Will you teach me to fire all of those?”

“You don’t need guns, Jack. You have your powers.”

“There are ways to limit my powers.” said Jack, “I’ve been reading about some of them.”

“You must let me see those books.” said Dean, “Not that I ... ”

“I know.” said Jack, “Good to know in case something happens. Things happen. That’s why I was looking.”

“Wow. Kid, that’s not something we want you to be thinking about.”

“It’s fine. A few wards can weaken me a little. Removing my grace would render me as weak as a human.” Jack smiled at Dean’s expression. “A normal human, not a Winchester.” he clarified, “Mostly, though, I’m close to invincible.”

“Good to know.” said Dean.

“You used to want to kill me.” 

“Not want to, I thought I’d have to. I didn’t know you then.”

Jack sat on the end of the bed. “May I ask something about Hell?”

“You don’t want to know about Hell.” said Dean, tilting a slice of toast to watch the melted butter run down it.

“You mean you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean both.” said Dean, “Hell doesn’t apply to you, so keep it out of your mind.”

“It applied to you.” said Jack.

“Because of a stupid demon deal.” said Dean, “That’s why we never do demon deals.”

“Unless we have no choice.” said Jack.

“Yes.” said Dean, “You will always have a choice, so stay away from demon deals.”

“Were you afraid in Hell?” said Jack.

“Every minute.” said Dean.

“How did you get out?” said Jack.

Dean ate some toast, drank some coffee and took a deep breath before answering, “Cas. Castiel got me out. That was how we met. He went into Hell and dragged me out and he’s been doing pretty much the same thing ever since.”

“Castiel never tells me any of the heroic things he’s done.”

“He barely acknowledges them to us,” said Dean, “And we were there for most of them. What you have to remember with Castiel is that he never thinks of himself as important. He used to see himself as merely a servant of Heaven. Now, I sometimes think he’s just swapped us for his celestial commanders. He’s done some incredible things, but you’ll never hear of them from him.”

“I’m glad I have you and Sam to tell me some of them.” said Jack.

“I’m happy to tell you all of them.” said Dean, “They’re worth talking about. He takes humility too far. Maybe he just doesn’t know any of it matters. Still stuck in that angel programming, where to succeed is expected and to fail is unacceptable. My Dad had much the same approach.”

“What was your Dad like?” said Jack, with no idea of the can of worms he was opening and hurling at the wall.

Dean thought about it as he drank his coffee. “My Dad,” he said, “Was a kickass hunter who never backed down from a fight. He was clever. He was committed. He made a demon deal for me, went to Hell, resisted the torture that broke me and then fought his way out. He was a hero. He was obsessed. He was a mess. I loved him anyway.”

Jack nodded. “I think I would too. He must really have loved you to go to Hell for you, just like you loved Sam and went for him. I don’t think anyone would do that for me.”

“Castiel would.” said Dean, “He wouldn’t hesitate. Sam would too.”

“After what he said about demon deals?” said Jack.

“We all say all the right things, but if you were in danger, if your life depended on it, any one of us would do whatever it took.”

“I’d do it for any of you, too.” said Jack.

Dean smiled. “I don’t doubt it for a second.” he said.


	39. Chapter 39

Sam and Cas had wandered to the edge of some farmland. A few trees provided a secluded spot and, without discussion, they both went to sit on the felled trunk of a mature tree.

Sam took a deep breath, enjoying a moment of peace. “I should come here more.” he said, “It’s quiet. It gives me a chance to think.”

Cas nodded. “I’m afraid our friends in the bunker seem not to give you a lot of time for that or anything else.”

“It’ll get easier for them.” said Sam, “They just feel a little lost. As we get them better at hunting, they’ll find a purpose here.”

“And for now, they’re your purpose.” said Cas.

“Them and Dean.” said Sam, not bothering to deny that he needed a purpose as much as they did.

“Keep busy and the bad stuff stays away?” said Cas.

“Don’t knock it. It’s a winning strategy so far.” said Sam.

“Exhausting, though.” said Cas.

“Yeah, but exhausted and functioning beats rested and beaten.” said Sam.

“Do you think you will see Lucifer again?” said Cas.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry. Not a good time to bring that up.” said Cas.

“It’s fine.” said Sam, opening his eyes. “I’m fine. The thought is rarely out of my mind, but it’s foolish to worry about something that may never happen. Irrelevant too, from my point of view. The truth is, even if I live the rest of my life without ever seeing him again, I will never be free of Lucifer. He was once a part of me - will always be a part of me. I hope the memory of me is as painful to him.”

“I think you can be sure of that.” said Cas, “You will always be remembered as the one person he could never fool or corrupt. You’re also a constant reminder that it’s possible to have a terrible relationship with your father and not throw a tantrum and destroy everything you can reach. You and I remember his presence, but at least we do not have to feel inferior to him.”

Sam belatedly noticed the phrasing. “You think he corrupted you?”

“It’s hard to think of anyone who hasn’t, Lucifer, Naomi, Crowley. I think I am easily corrupted.”

“No, you’re not.” said Sam, “Naomi commanded you to kill Dean and you resisted and you won.”

“Dean didn’t tell Jack that I’m the reason you left Hell without your soul.” said Cas.

“Did you expect him to?”

“It was the truth.” said Cas.

“It doesn’t matter, if it ever did.” said Sam, “Dean will never say anything to Jack that makes you look bad.”

“Sometimes, I try to make a list of the good things I’ve done, the things I’m proud of.”

“That’s a good idea.” said Sam.

“Not really. It’s never a long list.”

“Maybe you should ask Dean to make the list, or me.”

“I left you soulless.”

“You tried to get me out of Hell.” said Sam.

“Do you think trying counts?”

“Yes, I really do.” said Sam, “Anyway, maybe Dean wouldn’t have tried to rescue my soul if my body weren’t wandering around without it. He was with Lisa. He was happy.”

Cas shook his head. “He seemed happy. Now, I think he was just hiding in a nice warm cave to lick his wounds. Without you, he’s never more than half alive.”

“Which is likely to be a problem, if I die first. But maybe Jack can take my place. Dean loves Jack like a son.”

“He loved Ben like a son, but it didn’t stop him missing you.” said Cas.

“It stopped him giving up.” said Sam.

“I need you to stop talking as if you are planning to die.” said Cas.

“I don’t plan to die,” said Sam, “I am planning contingencies for if someone kills me, a thing people try to do quite often.”

“For people who believe in free will, you and your brother are very fatalistic.”

“I prefer realistic. If anything does happen to me, I need you to immediately get Dean up and running.”

“Up and running where?” said Cas.

“Anywhere. Just don’t let him lose hope. Don’t let him give up. Above all, don’t let him throw his life away or exchange it for mine.”

“What if he dies and you survive?” said Cas.

“Remind me Jack needs me.”

“I need you too.” said Cas.

“We all need each other, so as long as two of us survive, we each have a reason to go on fighting.” said Sam.

“The world is not enough?” said Cas.

“Good movie, bad reason for living. I love the world and I hope it makes it, but the day Dean dies, my stake in it is gone.”

“And if you are both dead, so is mine.” said Cas.

“You’ll have Jack.” said Sam. Cas was suddenly looking very weighed down again. “I’m supposed to be making sure you’re okay,” said Sam, “Not filling your head with painful possibilities.”

Cas brightened. “I have decided to live in denial of your mortality.” he said.

“Denial works.” said Sam.

“Just remember that your life matters to me.”

Sam smiled. “I always will.”

“And Jack needs you. Of the three of us, you are the biggest influence for good.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” said Sam.

“Humility is a virtue.” said Cas.


	40. Chapter 40

When Sam got back to the bunker, he went to find Dean, who was still in his room. His breakfast tray lay on the bed beside him. “Mom gave you breakfast in bed?” said Sam, slightly jealous.

“Jack did.” said Dean, “How do you tell someone you don’t need that?”

“Why would you want to?” said Sam, “It’s a kind thought.”

“I don’t want Jack seeing me as wounded.” said Dean, “I don’t want anyone seeing me that way.”

“Right.” said Sam.

“Because I’m not wounded, Sam. I mean, I was, at first, all those years ago, but now I’m just ... ”

“Happy, healthy scar tissue?” said Sam.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have told him.”

“Cas needed us to tell him. Do you want me to talk to Jack?”

“And tell him what? That he should be more discreet in looking after the wreck?”

Sam moved the tray and sat on the bed. “What’s really bothering you?”

Dean sighed. “I need to kill something. I need to not be sitting here, doing nothing, thinking about Hell and Dad and all the mistakes I ever made.”

“What about Dad?” said Sam.

“Jack asked about him. I’m being dumb. It wasn’t even bad. We talked about Hell too and Castiel and it was all fine and I even enjoyed having someone to talk to about it all, but he’s not here to make me feel better. We agreed we shouldn’t talk about Hell to Jack. I don’t even know why I did. It’s like he just looks at you and you want to tell him everything.”

Sam could understand why Dean was troubled. He prided himself on keeping all the pain inside, locked away where nobody else could ever be hurt by it; which was stupid, because it made him lash out at anyone who dared to get close to him.

“No wonder angels hate me. Every time one is near, I start throwing off waves of self-pity.”

“One, Jack’s not an angel. Two, the only angel that really knows you loves you. Three, it’s not self-pity to have legitimate feelings about the stuff you have gone through.”

“Screw you.” said Dean, but there was little anger in the words.

“Not while I have my strength.” said Sam, “Do you want me to disappear?”

“I like Jack.” said Dean.

“I know you like Jack. Most importantly, Jack knows you like Jack.”

“I like Cas.” said Dean.

“Again, not new information.” said Sam.

“I like you, sometimes.” said Dean.

“You’re too kind.” said Sam. He could see Dean was struggling to say something. “What is it?” he said.

“At the cabin, Sam, I was a mess. I was falling apart faster than that den we made in Bobby’s yard. You’ve never seen me go to pieces like that. I would never let you see me like that.”

Sam tried not to let that sting. He waited for Dean to go on.

“Cas ... he was great. Somehow he just knew what to say and he never lost patience with me.”

“Good.” said Sam.

“And since we got back, he hasn’t said a word about it. I put him through a lot and he hasn’t complained.”

“You really have a problem with people taking care of you, don’t you?”

“No more than you do.” said Dean, “It’s just that ... it was bad. It was worse than I’d expected.”

“Sorry. I thought it would be easier once you started.” said Sam.

“I hope it will be, next time.”

“So there will be a next time?” 

“As long as Cas can take it, but if he can’t, I’ll be happy to forget the whole thing.”

“If either of us does that, it should be me.” said Sam, “I think you need it more.” 

He expected an argument, but Dean just said, “You may be right. The things in my head, they’re toxic. I can either bury them again or keep talking until they stop poisoning my life. I’ll admit, the first sounds good to me, but I know you and Cas prefer option two.”

“We’ll make sure Cas is okay. We’ll all take care of each other. That’s what family’s for and if you have the courage to keep delving into the darkness, Cas will make sure you never have to do it alone.”

“There’s no way I could do it alone.” said Dean.

“I know, me neither.”

“But for now, Sam, put me on one of the hunts. Give me something to kill.”

“Are you sure you’re not too distracted for that?” said Sam.

“Have you ever known me to be distracted from the job?” said Dean.

“If I asked Cas whether you were okay for hunting, what would he say?” said Sam. 

Dean smiled. “Well played.”

“He’d say no, wouldn’t he?”

“He’s over-protective.” said Dean.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” said Sam.

“If I don’t hunt soon, people will wonder why I’m on light duties. Mom will wonder.”

“I’d hardly call facing Hell light duties.” said Sam.

“You’re starting to annoy me.”

“I’ve been annoying you since I was three. Cas says I’m a good influence for Jack.”

“For Jack, yes.”

“‘The biggest influence for good,’ he said.”

“He could be right.”

“I disagreed.”

“What did he say?”

“‘Humility is a virtue.’”

Dean laughed. “So is chastity, but I don’t recommend it.”


	41. Chapter 41

Soon after lunch, Dean found Cas in the kitchen, up to his elbows in warm, soapy water. “Cas, you’re the one person who never eats. Why are you always letting them leave you with the dishes?”

“It makes them happy and it makes me happy.” said Cas.

“You have a very limited idea of happiness.” said Dean.

“Probably, but it makes me very easy to please.” said Cas.

“One day, we are going to go on a road trip and we are not coming back until you have found something a lot better than washing dishes.”

Cas smiled. “Sam asked me if I think you’re fit to hunt.” He took a fork out of the water and looked at it, turning it in his hand.

“I was afraid of that.” said Dean.

“I told him yes, but not alone.”

“You don’t trust me?” said Dean.

“Of course I trust you, but right now, there are too many distractions inside your head. You need back-up. I suggested all three of us should go. He’s promised to try to find a suitable hunt.” He put the fork down and started to clean a plate.

“By suitable, you mean one I can’t screw up.”

“No,” said Cas, “I mean close, uncomplicated and not likely to keep Sam away from his people too long.” He rubbed at the plate with the dishcloth.

“Oh.” said Dean. He took the plate. “That’s clean.” He dried it and put it away. “You waste too much time on this dull, domestic stuff. You’re a frickin’ angel.”

“I don’t understand why it irritates you.” said Cas, “You hate this work, I love it.”

“Why do you love it?” said Dean, “I don’t get why anyone would love it.”

“I don’t know.” said Cas, “I think it’s just peaceful, meditative. Also, I like to be useful.”

“Again, frickin’ angel.” said Dean, “You do things a lot more useful than this. Any monkey can wash dishes.”

“True, but they aren’t as thorough and they break a lot.”

“I don’t even want to speculate as to how you know that.” said Dean, “On the subject of being overly, pathologically helpful, could you tactfully tell Jack he doesn’t have to look after me? He brought me breakfast in bed, this morning.”

Cas nodded. “I can see why that would offend you. Well, actually, no, I can’t.”

“It doesn’t offend me. It’s just unnecessary and I know he means well, but ... ”

“Dean, he’s a super powerful being whose father was the Devil. Now, I thought the plan was to encourage him to be good and compassionate and not go darkside. Telling him not to do nice things would not be helpful. Mixed messages. Never a good thing in parenting.”

“He only did it because we told him about you know what.”

“Probably.” said Cas, “We also told him he couldn’t share the bad stuff with us. All that leaves is being kind. Don’t take that away from him too.”

“I just wish he’d aim it somewhere else.”

“At someone who needs it less?”

“No.” Dean paused before saying, “Okay, yes. Needing it doesn’t exactly make me feel good about myself.”

Cas finished the dishes in the sink and dried his hands. He went to the table and sat down. 

Dean sat opposite him. “I know I seem like a wreck.”

“That’s your view, not ours.” said Cas.

“I feel like a wreck a lot of the time. The stuff we dredged up ... ”

“Dean, it needed to be dredged up and I’m impressed that you’re not just pushing it back again. It’s making you feel this way because, for the first time in years, you forced yourself to engage with it, to look at it directly. This is strength, not weakness.”

“Then why does Jack feel he needs to take care of me?” said Dean.

“For the same reason you feel a need to take care of Jack when his life becomes challenging. We were never meant to fight alone. Family sticks together and when someone needs a little support, we make sure they get it, even if we have to fight them into submission first because they think needing it means they are pathetic and useless.”

“All my life, I have dealt with things alone.” said Dean.

“Only because you felt you had to. You don’t have to and it’s not fair to us that you refuse to let us help. We need to help.”

Both fell silent as Maggie came in, grabbed a drink from the refrigerator and left again.

“This is not the best place to discuss this.” said Cas.

“There’s really nothing to discuss.” said Dean, “You’re right. We shouldn’t discourage Jack’s good side.”

“You’re editing out an awful lot there.” said Cas.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So I think I’ll take that as a surrender to my superior logic.”

“Logic has no place in anything you just said.” said Dean.

“Too late, now. I’m claiming victory.” said Cas, “Working with you has taught me never to play by the rules.”

“Working with me broke every rule from the start.” said Dean, “You’re a rebel.”

“Well, it’s time you rebelled too. I know it goes against your nature to let anyone even know you need help, but at the cabin, you needed me and you let me help and I don’t think you’d call that a mistake.”

“No, I guess not.” said Dean, “But are you about to pretend it didn’t hurt you to get involved in all that?”

“No, I won’t lie about that. It hurt.”

“Human pain on an angel, like a sledgehammer on an eggshell. You didn’t expect that intensity. You aren’t used to it. You weren’t ready for it.”

“Neither were you.”

“My pain, my problem.” said Dean, “My whole point.”

“You needed me.”

“Yes.”

“Eggshells, by the way, are designed to break. It’s how the bird gets out.”

“Yeah. How many baby birds would survive a direct blow from a sledgehammer? It was too much.”

“No. It was what you needed and I needed to help you. I still do, so don’t even think of backing out now. Have a little faith in me. I am strong enough for this. I’ll have to be.”

“Which suggests you don’t believe you are.” said Dean.

“With my family working with me, I’m as strong as I need to be. Do I have my family with me?”

Dean looked into his friend’s eyes and knew he couldn’t let him down. “Of course. Always.” he said.


	42. Chapter 42

Sam spent the afternoon and evening with the refugees from Apocalypse World. He answered their questions, listened to their problems, offered advice and encouragement and heard their stories, many of which gave him hope that they would be fine, effective hunters. After the last of them had gone to bed, he went to his own room and worried about Dean and Cas.

He thought about Dean’s suggestion that he should give up talking about Hell to Cas. Sam had thought the same thought and had exactly the same doubt about his own motive that he had over Dean’s. Avoidance was so much easier, so much less painful, but he had asked Dean to continue and he felt Dean would be far more likely to if he did. Dean had no time for hypocrisy, at least, not other people’s.

When Dean had said he would never allow Sam to see him fall apart as he had in the cabin, it had felt like a punch in the gut. He was sick of Dean’s refusal to be honest with him about his feelings, as if he were a child, needing to be sheltered from it.

Now, though, in the dark simplicity of his room, away from the brother he had been trying to know for a lifetime, he saw it very differently. Dean had told him about it, admitted to it and admitted his own inability to share the actual incident with him. It wasn’t Dean pushing him away, as he had so many times, but drawing him in and letting him see how far from fine everything was.

He’d felt a pang of jealousy that Cas had known what to say, how to approach Dean at his least approachable, but now he was only glad that Cas had been there to pull Dean back from whatever cliff-edge he had been about to stumble over. He wondered what it had been that Cas had said to get through to Dean. For all his awkwardness at human interactions, the angel had a sincerity and compassion that could have miraculous effects on the broken and the lost.

Sam was the first to acknowledge that he often had no idea what to say to help his brother. It wasn’t that he didn’t know Dean better than anyone else alive. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand human nature. He was better at all that than Dean was and Dean often let him do the talking because of that. It was just that it was too important, too dangerous, when any poorly chosen word or phrase could make things worse. Sometimes, it was not insight he lacked, but courage and he would be silent, paralysed by the fear of inflicting more pain. Worst of all with the Hell stuff, he was hobbled by the guilt of knowing that every moment Dean had endured in Hell, he suffered as a willing sacrifice for the life of his baby brother.

Cas doubtless had his own struggles with fear of doing harm and even with guilt. He sometimes blamed himself for the decisions and actions of angels way above his pay grade. His love, though, was fierce and drove him to be not just brave, but reckless. Dean had needed him to speak, so he had spoken and he had said the right things. Sam wished that he knew what those things had been, but, on reflection, it was probably best that he didn’t. The coward part of him preferred to let Dean protect him from the actual scene. Witnessing it had clearly been hard for Cas.

Slowly, Sam fell asleep. His dreams began innocuously enough, with a peaceful walk in the woods, Dean and Cas just ahead of him on the path, talking intently about something he couldn’t quite hear. It didn’t bother him that he couldn’t hear it. It was not for his ears. They were enjoying their discussion and he was enjoying seeing them both happy.

The path led them all into a cavern and the air inside was acrid and unpleasant. Cas was thrown to the ground by an unseen force and then demons seized Dean. Alistair was suddenly in front of Sam, who found he could not move.

“What will you give me to let Dean go?” said Alistair. Sam saw that the walls at the far end of the cavern were stained with blood and ashes.

“Anything.” said Sam.

“Anything? Your life? Your soul? Eternity as my slave?”

“Yes! All of it! Anything!” said Sam.

“It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” said Alistair.

Dean struggled against the demons holding him. “Sammy, no!” he shouted.

“You don’t want to leave.” said Alistair, “You know this is where you belong.”

“That’s not true!” said Sam, realising he was arguing with his brother, not with Alistair, “Dean, it’s not true! It was never true! There’s nothing bad in you.”

“Remember the pleasure of power. Remember the craftsmanship of cruelty. You’re a better demon than any demon ever was. There is so much rage in you, so much hatred.”

“He’s lying!” said Sam, “Demons lie, Dean!”

“Sam doesn’t get it, Dean. He’s never known the joy of taking a soul apart, breaking it a million ways and then making it whole again so it can suffer more.”

“I’ve done worse things than you ever did, Dean!” said Sam.

Dean groaned.

“Fight him, please!” shouted Sam.

“Why would he fight? This is his home.” said Alistair, “This is the only place where he can be himself, without having to see your unkind judgement written on your face. You never accepted his dark side.”

“He doesn’t have a dark side!” said Sam, “You don’t, Dean, you never did. No matter what happened, you always did the right thing. Always.”

“For all the wrong reasons.” said Alistair.

Dean was falling slowly to the ground, head hanging down as if he were already dead.

“Dean!” shouted Sam.

Suddenly, Lucifer was at his side. “You can take the Winchester out of Hell ... ”

Dean was being dragged away by the demons. 

“Cas!” Sam shouted at the unmoving shape on the floor, “Cas, help us!”

Cas seemed to be dead. Lucifer was laughing. Dean was almost out of sight. “Don’t worry about your big brother.” said Alistair, “I have great plans for him.”

Sam was struggling to free himself, but he knew he could not. He cried out in anguish and fury.

And then he was awake and Cas was saying his name. “Sam? Wake up, Sam.”

“Was I that loud?” said Sam.

“Quite loud.” said Cas, “But I’m here because you were praying for my help.”

The door opened and Dean came in. “What was all that yelling?”

“The usual.” said Cas, “Bad dreams. It might be best for you to leave him with me. We can talk more freely then.”

“What if Mom heard?” said Sam.

“I heard because I was in the corridor close by.” said Dean, “I don’t think anyone else did.”

Sam got up and put his shoes on. “I need to get out of here.”

“You need to sleep.” said Dean.

Sam looked at his worried face and remembered his face in the dream, defeated, dying. “No, that’s the last thing I need.”

“Do you want me to go?” said Dean, his tone begging Sam not to send him away.

Sam almost said yes, but he could not forget shouting, begging Dean to hear him and not Alistair. He grabbed Dean’s sleeve and said, “I need to tell you my dream, all of it. I need to tell you both.”

“Okay, okay, Sam.” said Dean, gently pushing him back to sit on the bed. “Sit down, relax and tell us.”


	43. Chapter 43

With the dream out in the open, Dean could understand why his brother had no wish to go back to sleep. “You haven’t found a hunt for us yet?” he said to Sam.

“No, not yet. I’m working on it.” said Sam.

“I know you are. Let’s go hunting anyway. You get dressed. We’ll meet you outside. I’ll get the car. Cas, leave a note saying we left on an early hunt.”

“What are we hunting?” said Cas.

“For the note, say a vengeful spirit. In reality, someplace we don’t have to explain anything to anyone else.”

“We’re faking hunts now?” said Sam.

“It’s a note. It’s not written under oath. The only people we owe the truth are each other.” said Dean. He looked at Sam. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.” said Sam.

“And if Jack asks about it later, you can tell Jack the truth.” said Dean to Cas. He looked at his watch. “Five minutes, folks. I want everyone ready to go. That fictional vengeful spirit won’t gank itself.”

Four minutes later, he was outside the bunker entrance in the Impala, watching Cas and Sam come out with a selection of equipment and, he was pleased to see, two bottles of whisky. “Well, at least there will be spirit involved.” he said as they got into the car, “And I’m confident we can eradicate it.”

“Thanks for doing this.” said Sam, “I just want to get away from here for now.”

“Thanks for telling me the truth.” said Dean, “And I’m sorry you’re now dreaming about my Hell as well as yours.”

“It’s a good thing.” said Cas, “He can talk to you about yours.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. That’s a good point.” He started to drive. It felt good to have some practical solution to offer his brother, some way he could actually help. He stole occasional glances at Sam as he drove. Sam always looked tired, but now he looked tense and anxious as well. “Are you okay?” he said. “Stupid question.” he said a moment later, “Of course you’re not okay.”

“Okayer than I was.” said Sam, “Any idea where we’re going?”

“No, I’m just following the road until it gets somewhere or someone offers me food.” said Dean. He looked in the mirror. “You’re very quiet back there.” he said, “Do you have an opinion on where we should be?”

“No,” said Cas, “I’m just enjoying where we are, all moving in the same direction, all being honest with each other. It feels good. It feels right.”

“Yes, it does.” said Dean. He smiled at Sam, who nodded and gave a half smile.

They drove in silence for a while and then Sam said, “Dean, this will sound weird and if you don’t want to do it, I’ll understand one hundred percent ... ”

“If it’s gonna help, I wanna do it.” said Dean, hoping he wouldn’t have to backtrack on that.

“Can we go to Stull Cemetery?”

“End of the World, Stull Cemetery?” said Dean.

“There’s another? I know it’s more than a three hour drive and not exactly your favourite place, but I just think that’s where I need to be.”

“If it’s where you need to be, it’s where we’re going.” said Dean, “Assuming you have no objections, Cas?”

“None at all.” said Cas from the back seat, “Anything that helps Sam is fine with me.”

“We’ll stop somewhere on the way for breakfast.” said Dean, “Sammy, you should try to get some sleep.”

“Have you actually been to bed yet?” said Sam.

“No, which means later, I may need you awake enough to drive. Cas can zap you into oblivion. Usually, that comes with a guarantee of no nightmares.”

“Okay.” said Sam. Cas reached over and put him to sleep.

Dean nodded. “That’s good. He’s wearing himself out running around after everyone else. Thanks, Cas.”

“I hope you’ll let me do the same for you when it’s your turn for a nap.” said Cas.

Dean hesitated. He had not intended that to happen. Then again, this was turning into an unusual trip by any normal standards. “Fine.” he said, “Why not? I could use a little rest.” He saw Cas’s smile in the mirror.

“Little by little, we are making progress.” said Cas.

“It’s a matter of faith.” said Dean.

“Yes, and that has never come easily to you.”

“But if there is one person I know I can believe in, it’s you.” said Dean.

“That means a lot to me.” said Cas.

Dean looked at his sleeping brother. “Why do you think he wants to go to Stull Cemetery?” 

Cas pondered for a moment. “I don’t know. Perhaps because it’s where he won against all the odds. Are you really fine with going there? It only has unhappy memories for you.”

“All my unhappy memories are up here.” he said, tapping his head, “Going there won’t make them any worse. You got killed there. Do you want me to leave you in Topeka and pick you up after?”

“No. We should stick together.” said Cas.

Dean smiled. “Whatever we’ve suffered, whatever we’ve lost, this life has at least given us each other. You, me and Sam. I’ll take all the curses to keep that blessing.”

“That’s how I feel too.” said Castiel.

“And Sleeping Beauty there would say the same.” said Dean, “Even though we are the kind of people who would gladly draw rude things on his face as he sleeps.”

“I’m not.” said Cas.

“No, neither am I.” said Dean, “I was just checking.”


	44. Chapter 44

When they found a suitable truck stop diner, they stopped and Cas woke Sam. Soon, they were all sitting at a table by the window. Dean and Sam both had a substantial fried breakfast and Cas sat stirring a large cup of coffee, but didn’t bother to drink it. He felt good, seeing the changes in their usual patterns. This time, they had not run away from each other, but had chosen to get away from everyone else and confront things none of them wanted to face alone.

Stull Cemetery held bad memories for all of them, but also good ones. It had been a victory, though at high cost. Cas had died there, but had been immediately resurrected with greater power. Dean had died there, in a way, watching his brother die and then leaving everything behind to play house. Sam had died in the most real sense. Although Cas had pulled him from Hell quite quickly, his soul had been left behind to suffer.

The peaceful sleep in the car seemed to have done Sam some good. He seemed brighter, more alert, less shaken. Dean was smiling a lot when he exchanged glances with Cas. He seemed happy with the change in Sam.

Cas wasn’t sure how much he bought the claim that going to Stull wasn’t going to be hard for Dean. He felt he would have to keep a close eye on both Winchesters, but he was also confident that the three of them could face it together.

“Cas wanted to draw stuff on your face.” said Dean to Sam, “But I said no.”

“Yeah, right, Cas wanted to. Cas the known prankster.” said Sam.

“You almost sound like you don’t believe me.” said Dean.

“I wonder why that could be.” said Sam.

Cas just listened contentedly, accustomed to their easy banter and reassured by it. He had been afraid that the bad dream would have brought up anxiety, guilt and more unfortunate silence between the brothers, but Sam had chosen to open up about it and that had stopped Dean from feeling excluded and distrusted and Dean’s willingness to listen had caused Sam to feel good about talking about it. He had not had great faith in the Winchester Pact, but it was working.

“We’ve got about another hour to go.” said Dean, “Is everyone feeling okay about this?”

“Okay and very grateful to you two for coming with me.” said Sam.

“Anything that helps you, helps me.” said Dean. He looked at Cas. “Cas?”

“Frickin’ angel.” said Cas.

“Yes, understood, but is the frickin’ angel okay with this?” said Dean.

“I am.” said Cas, “Are you definitely okay with it?”

“With the right music, I’ll be fine.”

“Rock of Ages?” said Sam.

“You remember that?” said Dean.

“You’d be surprised what I remember.”

“If the song brings back ... ”

“Dean, I sang that song in Hell to remember you. That song is you to me. Let’s play it loud and proud. We beat the Devil, more than once.”

“You sang in Hell?” said Dean.

“It helped.” said Sam.

Dean turned to Cas. “Dude sang in Hell. In the cage, with Lucifer. Now that is what being a Winchester is all about.”

Sam smiled. 

“I can’t believe you never told me that. If I’d been able to sing in Lucifer’s cage, I’d be bragging to everyone.”

“It was a survival strategy.” said Sam.

“It was you, crushing the Devil.” said Dean. “I wish I had your strength.”

“Desperation, not strength.” said Sam.

“Well, I think it was badass.” said Dean.

Cas was surprised. Suddenly they were talking to each other about Hell. It wasn’t the deep stuff and he knew that Dean would probably never tell Sam the things that really haunted him, but to even edge towards the pit was a major advance for both.

“Music,” said Sam, “I mean good music, obviously, always reminds me of you. So does bad singing. My singing was pretty bad.”

“My singing is amazing.” said Dean.

“In every sense but the good one.” said Sam.

“Cas, back me up here.” said Dean.

“Dean’s singing is better than mine.” said Cas.

“There you are.” said Dean, “I sing better than angels.”

“Better than one angel.” said Cas, “Most angels sing better than I do. Some sound better than I do when crying out in pain.”

“One thing we will do on our road trip is karaoke.” said Dean.

“This road trip?” said Sam.

“No. Soon, Cas and I are going on a road trip in search of happiness.”

“For you or for Cas?” said Sam.

“For Cas, obviously. All I need for happiness is a beer, a burger and a stripper. You can come too. And we are gonna make Cas laugh. I mean really laugh.”

“Do angels do that?” said Sam.

“This one will. We’re not going home until he does.”

“Could be a long journey.” said Sam.

“Karaoke is not a good idea.” said Cas.

“Have you ever done it?”

“Never to any good effect.” said Cas.

“Well, if Sam can sing in Hell, he can do one night at Clarkson’s Cantina and so can you.” said Dean.

“I’m fairly sure that will not result in happiness for anyone.” said Cas. He didn’t believe there would ever be such a road trip, but he was touched that Dean continued to think of it as a good idea. However strange and disturbing Dean’s plans were sounding, Cas knew that they came from a genuine desire to make him happy.

Dean finished his breakfast and muttered, “Bathroom break.” before leaving the table.

Sam said, “He seems okay, doesn’t he? I was afraid telling him the dream would mess him up.”

Cas answered carefully, not wanting to even hint at the cabin. “More than anything else, he needs your trust. He needs you to believe in him.”

“I always have. I always will.” said Sam.

“Good.”

“Are you really planning a road trip?” said Sam.

“When do we ever have time to do anything that isn’t work?”

“But we agreed in the Pact that we would find the time.”

“I don’t believe happiness for me exists somewhere out there on some mythical road.” said Cas.

“I know, but he really wants to give you some happiness in your life.”

“And I love him far too much to refuse to comply if such a road trip ever becomes a reality.” said Cas.

Dean came back and Sam said, “Do you want me to drive the rest of the way, so you can sleep?”

“No,” said Dean, “I’ll sleep on the way home.”

“Are you sure? Because you look tired and I feel wide awake.”

“I’m sure.” said Dean and Cas knew the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted to be awake for the journey to Stull. Dean needed to prepare himself to face it.

“Okay.” said Sam.

“Now, I shouldn’t need to say this,” said Dean, “But when we get to Stull, nobody throws anybody at my Baby.”

Sam grinned. “That was Lucifer, not me.”

“Just establishing some ground rules.” said Dean.

“I’m hoping you two can tell me what happened after I left.” said Sam, “I mean, you’ve told me about it, but I want to see it in my head.”

“We’ll give you the full details, on location.” said Dean. He looked at Cas, “Are you gonna finish that coffee?”

“No, I don’t think so.” said Cas.

Dean shrugged and drained it. He left the money on the table and said, “Come on. Let’s go chase some ghosts.”


	45. Chapter 45

When they arrived at Stull Cemetery, Dean stopped the car at the entrance. He looked at Sam. He wanted to ask if Sam felt ready to go in there again, but he knew his voice would shake if he spoke. 

Sam nodded anyway.

Dean started the music. On that other trip to Stull, he had driven in alone to find his brother and, if he could not reach him and get him to fight Lucifer, to make sure that they died together, that whatever was left of Sam would know he had not abandoned him.

Sam leant over and turned the volume up. “Louder.” he said, “A victory song.”

Dean drove past the windmill and into the cemetery and stopped where he had on that other day. They all got out of the car. Rock of Ages still blared loud and clear.

Sam looked around. “It hasn’t changed at all.” he said.

“We have.” said Dean. He felt old and tired. Years of pain and fear and sacrifice seemed to swirl around them like an army of the living dead. “The hardest thing I ever had to do was watch you fall into that pit.”

“And you did it.” said Sam, “More than that, you made it possible.”

“Yeah, thanks, Sam. That’s just the reminder I need right now, that I was the reason why you ended up in Hell.”

“You’re the reason I didn’t end up as Lucifer’s bitch for all eternity. You’re the reason I could fight him enough to lock him in the cage. Okay, it wasn’t as permanent as we hoped, but because of you, I was able to defeat him. We were able to defeat him.” Sam looked over to Cas, who was gazing into the distance. “You okay, Cas?”

There was no answer. “Cas?” said Dean.

Still no answer, so they went over to him. “If this is too much for you ...” said Sam.

“No.” said Cas, “It’s not fun, but I can handle it. It’s just, being here reminds me of everything you two have been through.”

“There were four of us that day, five if you include the car.” said Sam.

“Okay,” said Dean, “In what universe were we not going to include the car?”

“You died for us. So did Bobby.” said Sam, “You called Michael an assbutt. He really didn’t like that.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t.” said Dean.

“Compared to wrestling with Lucifer and Michael and throwing them both into the cage, that doesn’t seem like much.” said Cas.

“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t roasted Michael, I’d never have had a chance to talk to Sam.” said Dean.

“And be beaten to the point of death by Lucifer.” said Cas.

“Good times!” said Dean.

Sam started walking to where the ground had opened up. “Hey, Sam!” said Dean, “Don’t go over there!” 

“It’s okay. The cage is closed now.” said Sam, “Come over here.”

Dean went to him, Cas following close behind.

“You knew he ... I would try to kill you.” said Sam.

“Not you, Sammy. You would never kill me, any more than I could kill you. I knew he would try, if he could keep control of you.”

“And you must have known how hard it would be to break that control, when his whole focus was on maintaining it.”

“I’ll admit, the odds were not in my favour.” said Dean.

“And you still came.” said Sam.

“He was determined not to let you die alone.” said Cas.

“If any part of you still remained alive, I wanted that part to know you were loved.” said Dean, “If I couldn’t save you, I needed to at least tell you I would never leave you.”

Sam looked into his eyes. “You never have, in all these years.”

“When I was a demon, I did.”

“Yeah, to protect me. Do you think I don’t know you did it so you wouldn’t hurt me?”

“I think you think I’m a better person than I am.” said Dean.

“No, Dean, I really don’t. Can’t have illusions about someone when you’ve shared bathrooms with them all your life. You just don’t see how good you are, because you judge yourself against impossible standards and hate yourself for falling short. You hardly ever fall short, by the way.”

“If you knew the stuff I’d done in Hell, if you knew how ... ” Dean began.

Sam smiled. “Dean, you still don’t get it. It doesn’t matter what you did in Hell. I mean, it matters to you, obviously. Not to me. I hate that you went through it. I hate that you have those memories constantly making you feel bad about yourself, even though it was not in any way your fault, but I don’t care what you did. I don’t care what you thought you were or what you now think you were. You’re my brother, my best friend, my protector, mentor and saviour. You’re my strength. You’re my life. I believe in you and I always will.”

Cas spoke from beside Dean. “Do you hear that, Dean? Please, believe it.”

“You know he’d change his mind if he knew.” said Dean.

“No he wouldn’t.” said Cas.

“There’s nothing you can tell me, nothing I can discover, that will ever change my faith in you.” said Sam, “We’ve been through too much. I know you far too well. I don’t know what it is that makes you hate yourself, but I know it isn’t real. If you were evil, I would see it. You wouldn’t be able to hide it from me.” said Sam, “There’s not much you can hide from me.”

“Okay.” said Dean, bracing himself for the end of their relationship, “In Hell, when I was merrily torturing anyone they put in front of me, they found someone who looked just like you and I thought it was you and I picked up the knife and I was going to cut you.”

“That’s terrible.” said Sam.

“Yeah.” said Dean, “And suddenly you see my point.”

“No, I mean it’s terrible they did that to you, messing with your head like that. I mean, the Mark of Cain was bad enough, but that Alistair, just layers and layers of evil. I’m so sorry, Dean. The perfect torture for you, making you think you were torturing me. I wish I could kill him again, more slowly, more cruelly. I wish I could make him suffer like you suffered.”

“To be fair, you made him suffer a lot.” said Cas.

“Good. You knew about this?”

“Yes.” said Cas, “I kept telling him you wouldn’t hate him for it.”

“Hate him? Knowing he was put through that? Dean, is there anything in your head but a desire to blame yourself for every bad thing that ever happened?

Dean felt a tear run down his face. He had been sure his dread secret would be fatal to his relationship with Sam. Sam seemed not to have a problem with it. “I never meant to tell you.” he said, “I never wanted you to know.”

“I get that.” said Sam, “You’ve been protecting me my whole life. You don’t have to anymore.”

“I think I was protecting myself.” said Dean.

“Yeah, you think a lot that doesn’t make any sense.” said Sam.

“Get the whisky, Cas.” said Dean, “There are glasses in the trunk.” Cas went to get them. Dean looked at Sam. “I hate knowing I would have cut you.”

“You wouldn’t, Dean.” said Sam, “Demons, they make you think all kinds of things that aren’t true. Lucifer used to tell me you’d forgotten me. They mess you up until you don’t know what’s real. You’d never have hurt me, Dean, but even if you had, I would have forgiven you. Hell screws you up.”

“You may have forgiven me, I never would.” said Dean.

“Of course not.” said Sam, “Because you love me and you want to protect me and hurting me would be abhorrent to your nature. Because you’re a good man, a good brother.”

Cas put a glass of whisky in Dean’s hand, then gave one to Sam. He also poured a little whisky on the ground, “For Bobby.” he explained.


	46. Chapter 46

  
Sam had not been sure at first why he felt the need to go to Stull Cemetery, but as they stood on the former celestial battlefield and drank whisky together, he began to understand. After his dream, he had needed some real communication with his brother and neither of them tended to be good at that. They needed a place where they could talk as equals, a place, perhaps, where memories would break away some of the walls they built around themselves.

Here, where each had made a huge sacrifice, where the bond between them had been broken and both their lives destroyed for the salvation of a world that would never know it had been saved, both were profoundly vulnerable. Things neither could have spoken from a position of security and strength could be said here, where they had nothing at all to lose or to gain.

Even knowing that Stull Cemetery was such a place, he had never expected Dean to tell him something of which he was so ashamed and afraid. Sam had known there was something burning in Dean’s soul, poisoning his life and he had thought Cas might one day get to it and argue with it, but he had never thought Dean would just say it in front of both of them like that.

He had seen the look in Dean’s eyes after he said it, almost the same look as in his dream, a look of defeat and despair. He had obviously expected Sam to be angry or disgusted, to hate him at once. Sam felt none of those things. The truth that Dean had been too afraid to speak, once spoken, was not disastrous after all. Sam had suffered torture many times. He knew how it worked and he knew that someone under torture might do things they would never otherwise consider. All he felt for his brother was love. Dean needed his love.

He now also understood why Castiel had said Dean needed his trust. Dean felt he had betrayed his brother. It had been eating away at his heart for years. He thought that Sam, on finding out or even suspecting the terrible truth, would never trust him again. His greatest fear had always been that he would let Sam down and having, in his head, done exactly that, he was waiting for the terrible repercussions.

He looked up from his glass and saw Dean watching him. “Your dream,” said Dean, “Do you often dream about Alistair?”

“Not often. Sometimes.” said Sam.

“And my Hell?”

“Quite a lot.” said Sam.

“And you saw me dying?”

“It was like you couldn’t find the will to fight anymore, like I failed to give you a reason to fight.” said Sam.

“You are my reason to fight.” said Dean.

“In the dream, I kept shouting to you, but you weren’t listening. You were too far gone.”

“Dead already?” said Dean grimly.

“No, just not hearing anything I said. You listened to Alistair.” said Sam.

“Seems like a fair summary of your issues.” said Cas.

Dean gave him a look, but said nothing.

“I just kept trying to make you hear, but they were dragging you away and you were dying and Cas looked dead.”

“Oh great, now I’m even dead in dreams.” said Cas.

“If it helps, I think you represented Dean’s faith.” said Sam.

Cas nodded. “That helps a bit. Happy to be a metaphorically dead body.”

Dean smiled. “I think the key part of the dream is that you never stopped trying to get through to me.” he said, “You never gave up, even when anyone else would have.”

“That doesn’t just apply in dreams, Dean.” said Sam.

“No, apparently not.” said Dean.

“Just like you refused to give up on me when Lucifer took over. You were willing to die with me.”

“Only because it was easier than living without you.” said Dean, “And it still is, so don’t get any ideas about dying on me.”

“That’d be the last thing I’d do.” said Sam, “Don’t you die on me, either. You two have to outlive me.”

“I’m not making that promise.” said Dean.

“Angels in general are an endangered species now.” said Cas.

“Yeah, we need to look into a captive breeding thing.” said Dean.

Cas looked puzzled. “Angels don’t reproduce sexually.”

“Ah, right, junkless.” said Dean.

Cas gave him a disapproving look.

“We’ll add it to the list. Save the angels.”

“The list?” said Sam.

“Road trip, save the angels, get their wings back for them. It’s not a long list, but we’ll add more as we think of them.”

“Get Adam out of the cage?” suggested Sam.

“Good one!”

Sam felt a lot better. This was not the hopeless, miserable Dean from his dream. This was a glimpse of the pre-Hell version, trying to reassert himself. 

Dean looked around the stark cemetery and said, “It feels so weird to be back here.”

“Yes,” said Cas, “Like walking into a time outside time. Everything we have done and been and seen seems to converge and blend here.”

“What little I understand of what you just said scares the crap out of me.” said Dean.

“I think it’s a good thing.” said Sam, “A lot of the inconsequentials have fallen away. It’s just us, here.Just who we are and what we do.”

“What do we do, apart from saving people and hunting things?” said Dean.

“We shred destiny and rewrite reality.” said Castiel.

“We fight evil, or we redeem it.” said Sam.

“We guide the lost and reveal the hidden.” said Cas.

“We protect the lore and share it with others.” said Sam.

“We defend the world against the dangers it chooses not to see.” said Cas.

“We take care of each other.” said Sam.

“We do the work the angels would have done if they had been given the imagination for it.” said Cas.

“We make the world a better place.” said Sam.

“I think we might all need more whisky.” said Dean, taking the bottle from Cas and filling their glasses again.


	47. Chapter 47

Dean drank two more glasses of whisky, more for something to do that didn’t involve talking than because it would have any effect on him. He was still reeling from the fact that Sam didn’t care about what had happened in Hell. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to thank Sam for that.

He saw Sam looking at him and knew he had not missed how much Dean was drinking. “It’s fine.” he said, “You’re driving home, remember?”

“I didn’t say anything.” said Sam.

“The look was enough.” said Dean.

“I think he’s just concerned that something is wrong.” said Cas carefully. 

Dean understood. Cas was worried that they were backing away from the honesty that was so rare for both of them, seeking some minor disagreement as an excuse. Sam was worried that Dean was drinking as a way to do much the same thing.

“Relax, fellas,” he said, “We came here for a reason and it wasn’t an easy trip, so let’s not waste the opportunity. When we came here that day, I threw my brother’s life away. This time, I’m not throwing anything away, least of all either of you.”

“First, you didn’t throw my life away,” said Sam, “I did. Second, you’re not going to lose us.”

“What I mean is that if this is a chance to fix things and be honest and just not screw up anymore, I intend to take it.”

“You don’t screw up.” said Sam.

“Sam, I can’t count the number of times I said a dumb thing when I should’ve kept my mouth shut and started some fight we didn’t need to have. Half the time ... more than half, everything I said and did was from fear.”

“I know.” said Sam.

“I mean, fear of losing you, of letting you get hurt or worse, of failing you. And here, I failed you by choice.”

“No, you supported me in my choice.” said Sam.

“Doesn’t make a difference.”

“It does to me.” said Sam.

“It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, to let you say yes to Lucifer, then to let you throw yourself into the pit.”

“You almost died to make it possible. You would have died.” said Sam.

“Cas and Bobby did die.” said Dean, “I got off lightly and when it was over, I wished I hadn’t. I tried to tell myself it was right, that your death was a price worth paying for the whole world, but I stopped caring about the world as soon as you weren’t in it. I didn’t want to live, especially for that moment when Cas was gone, Bobby was dead and I was just left here. I was going to just wait there to die.”

“You’ve never told me that.” said Cas.

“You came back. You healed me. You brought Bobby back to life.”

“I healed the physical injuries.” said Cas, “I couldn’t do anything about the pain of losing Sam. In truth, I hoped you would find healing with Lisa. For a time, I thought you had.”

“We shouldn’t talk about that.” said Sam.

“Here, today, we can talk about anything.” said Dean, “But thanks, Sam. I know you try hard not to remind me of Lisa and Ben. I messed up their lives spectacularly.” He looked down at the rough grass, more brown than green. “I’m not sure I made a single good decision after leaving here. I threw my brother into Hell and sent shockwaves through every other life I touched.”

“I threw myself into Hell.” said Sam.

“I could have stopped you. I could have tried.” said Dean.

“And doomed the world to save me to die in the doomed world.” said Sam, “That doesn’t sound like a good decision.”

“There were no good decisions available at that point.” said Cas, “Once the apocalypse was begun ...”

“I broke the first seal.” said Dean.

“I broke the last.” said Sam.

“Neither of you had a choice.” said Cas in a voice that did not encourage further argument on the matter. “Don’t let this place drag you back to that time or any of its regrets.” he said.

“No, we shouldn’t.” said Sam, “Each of us, every time, made the best decision we could and sometimes we were right and sometimes we were wrong.”

“You can remember times when we were right?” said Dean.

“Off the top of my head? Not really.” said Sam, “But I know we sometimes were. We got Mom back.”

“Yeah, we got that right.” said Dean.

“We got a lot right.” said Cas, “And maybe not all we got wrong was truly wrong. We may find those were the very things that make some future victory possible. There is no point in looking for reasons to blame ourselves for the past. The future is what matters.”

“And the future’s looking pretty good.” said Sam, “We’re talking about things we never managed to talk about before.”

“Thanks to you and your Winchester Pact.” said Dean.

“That was a group effort.” said Sam, “Sticking to it, even more so.”


	48. Chapter 48

Dean looked at his two brothers, both of them stronger than he was. He wasn’t sure when Sam had changed from the helpless kid to the wise leader, but he knew that along the way, he had often backed down from asserting his independence, held his tongue on the things he knew better than Dean, because he never wanted Dean to feel sidelined or obsolete or dumb. Cas was good at keeping quiet too, at seeming smaller and less powerful than he was, playing at being human so he didn’t overshadow the Winchesters.

He knew their strengths and weaknesses as well as his own. He knew how their love for each other and for him had been stronger than all the force Heaven and Hell could muster. They had won, repeatedly, against the odds, because the one thing that could never be overturned was the simple bond of brotherhood.

Cas was now explaining to Sam everything that had happened after he fell into the pit. Dean made an effort not to pay too much attention. It had been the most costly victory of his life and he had no wish to relive it in too much detail. Sam seemed cheerful about it and he wondered how much of that was real and how much just an attempt to make Cas and Dean feel better about being there.

Why Sam had chosen that place, he didn’t know, but being there had made it possible for them to talk, even about the thing he had told himself he would never speak of to Sam. Maybe they needed to be at the scene of a Winchester victory to have the courage to speak freely about their defeats.

No victory was unalloyed with sorrow. Dean knew the future was unlikely to be easy. Enemies in hard to escape places remained enemies and would need to be dealt with. They had taken on responsibility for the refugees and their battle against Michael. Heaven was still on the verge of collapse. He and Sam were still damaged. The Hell stuff still hurt, probably always would. This was still a victory, though. They had begun to talk to each other about Hell and about everything else.

Dean knew he had Cas to thank for that. Cas had been willing to share the pain they could not share with each other and he had suffered as a result. Dean knew he was willing to continue listening to both, however hard it became. Now, though, perhaps Dean could talk to Sam a little more and perhaps Sam, who had been so honest about the dream, might be able to talk to him.

He wasn’t expecting any quick or easy fixes. Hell’s talons were still sunk deep into his flesh and he would always be afraid to look too deeply into his life as a torturer, to face his failure and his shame. That acrid, burning poison though, that had been inside him for so long, slowly killing him, obliterating his hope, condemning him as evil, the certainty that Sam, if he knew, could never forgive, that had a lot less power over him now, because Sam knew and he did not condemn Dean.

Cas had ceased his demonstration of events and was looking at him. “Dean?” he said.

“What?” said Dean.

“Are you okay?” said Cas, “You seemed distracted.”

Dean wondered what gift you could give an angel to thank him for healing a wound you didn’t know you had and restoring an abiding love and trust between two brothers who had been divided by the cruellest of angelic games. He had an idea, but it might take more courage than he had and he thought it best not to suggest it unless he was sure he could go through with it.

“Dean?” said Sam.

“I’m okay.” he said, “Better than okay, actually. Today, I feel good.”

Sam’s smile, he reflected, had not really changed since he was three years old. It shone at him now, lightening his heart as it always had. “That’s great.” said Sam.

“You telling me that dream, that was a leap forward.” he said.

“We’ve been making a lot of those.” said Sam, “I think we’re doing pretty well at keeping to the Pact, letter and spirit.”

“I agree.” said Dean.

Cas was still watching him closely, his eyes full of concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he said.

“I’m just tired.” Dean said honestly, “I’ll get some sleep on the way home.”

“Let me know when you’re ready.” said Cas.

“Ready for what?” said Sam.

“Cas is going to put me to sleep.” said Dean.

Sam looked surprised. “Oh. Good. And you’re fine with that?”

“Yeah, I trust Cas.” said Dean. He ignored the looks from both of them.


	49. Chapter 49

  
Cas could feel that the Winchesters were almost ready to go home. The haunted look that had been in Dean’s eyes since the cabin was gone now and Sam had recovered from the horror of his dream.

“I think I might take that nap now.” said Dean, “If you can spare a moment, Cas.”

Cas followed him to the car. Dean went to get in the passenger seat, but Cas said, “You might be more comfortable in the back.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to whisper about me in the front?” said Dean, getting into the back seat anyway. 

Cas got in beside him. “If we want to talk about you, we don’t need to whisper. You’ll be deeply asleep.” he said. He saw the doubt in Dean’s eyes and said, “Deep sleep is what you need. You’ve been pushing yourself to the limit for far too long.”

“You’re right.” said Dean.

“Yes, I am.” 

Cas raised his hand and was about to put him to sleep when Dean said, “Before you do that, there’s something else, something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. This feels like the right time and place.” He frowned. “I mean, always, before, there was the issue of secrets and doubts and frankly, I wasn’t ready, but now, you know my deepest darkest secret and so does Sam, which I didn’t see coming.” He looked at Cas uneasily and said, “Sorry. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Do you need me to go and talk to Sam for a while? Give you time to think?”

“Thinking is the last thing I want to do. Cas, you remember when you showed me what you think of me?”

“Of course.” said Cas, remembering how overwhelming Dean had found it and how surprised he had been.

“You can do that in reverse, right?”

“I’m not sure what you mean?” said Cas, hoping he was not about to be asked to wipe Dean’s memory.

“You can read my mind.”

“Yes, but I won’t, without your consent.”

“That’s very much what I’m trying to say. I want you to. I want you to take a peek into my mind and see what I think of you, because words don’t work well for us and I don’t think you have any more idea what I think of you than I had of what you thought of me.”

Cas was taken aback. It had been a morning of surprises and both Dean and Sam had been more open with him and with each other than they usually were, but for Dean, of all people to offer access to his unedited thoughts was completely unexpected.

“Are you sure?” he said, “Because you generally prefer to maintain a distance between us.”

“I know I do. I think that’s why you don’t know how I feel about you.”

“This will be intense and you may not be able to limit what I see.” said Cas.

“But you can limit where you look?” said Dean.

“Yes. I may see some passing thought you don’t want me to, but I won’t seek them out.”

“I trust you.” said Dean.

“You’re certain that you want to do this, right here, right now?” said Cas.

“Yes, I’m sure.” said Dean.

“And presumably, you don’t want Sam to know anything about it?”

“You can tell Sam whatever you like.” said Dean, “I’m not swearing anyone to secrecy today. Only honesty here, between the three of us.”

“Four, counting the car.” said Cas.

“Yeah.” said Dean.

“One more time. You’re sure?” said Cas.

“Why do you keep asking?”

“Because I know this is a big step for you. I don’t want you to regret it later.”

“Just do the mind meld, okay?” said Dean, closing his eyes.

“Okay.” said Cas. He reached out and held Dean’s face in his hands. He kept his promise and sought only the thoughts connected to Dean’s feelings about him. First, he saw the need to protect him and he was amused by how much protection Dean thought a super powerful celestial being needed, but then, Dean saw him as vulnerable, because he didn’t know all the twists and turns of human existence just yet.

Then he saw the awe, rather blasphemous awe that saw him as better than God, warmer, wiser, more sincere and less manipulative. There was awareness of his power, some little fear, but above all, a profound trust he in no way felt he deserved.

Then, a little deeper, brotherhood, friendship, love. The longing to see him laugh, the pain of seeing him mourn, the determination to be worthy of his loyalty and devotion, Dean’s need to show his fierce love for his chosen brother and the fear that it would be seen as something else, something less.

Deepest of all, the pain, the loss, the grief of losing him. For the first time, Cas saw how each of his deaths had left Dean a little more broken, a little less able to get over it and move on. When he had been in the Empty, Dean’s fate had not been much different. He had virtually ceased to exist. He had certainly struggled to care about anything else. Cas felt hot, painful tears fill his eyes as he realised how close Dean had come then to giving up. He let the tears fall. Somewhere in Dean’s memories, he heard Mary’s voice say, “Angels are watching over you.” and Dean, adult Dean, replying, “One angel. Only one.”

He ended the connection, anxious not to intrude on any other areas of Dean’s thoughts. Dean opened his eyes and looked at him. “Are you crying?”

“It was a little overwhelming.” said Cas, “You’re right. I had no idea. Above all, I didn’t know how badly my many deaths affected you.”

“You didn’t know that?” said Dean.

“No, not at all. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, nobody dies by choice.” said Dean, “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” said Cas. He had an instinct to hug Dean, but after that level of mental and emotional intimacy, he knew the physical kind would be too much. “I’d better put you to sleep now.” he said.

“Yes, you should.” said Dean.

This time, he didn’t flinch or back away. At the lightest touch, he fell into a deep sleep. Cas said, “Sleep well, Dean.” and then went back to walk around the cemetery once more with Sam.


	50. Chapter 50

With Dean asleep and Castiel seemingly lost in thought, Sam found most of the drive home quiet and uneventful. He played Dean’s music, on a lower volume than Dean preferred, so it had no chance to wake him but if he woke, he would have no cause to complain. He tried a few times to engage Cas in conversation, but since their final walk around the graves, when Cas had been talking about their previous battle there, he had slipped into an odd reverie and gave brief, inconsequential responses that suggested he was only vaguely aware of anything outside his own head.

He decided to try again when Lebanon was getting a lot closer. He wanted to be sure they were all ready to rejoin the busy bunker. “Cas,” he said, “Is there something wrong? If going to Stull raked up anything terrible, we should talk about it.”

At first, he thought Cas hadn’t heard, but then he said, “Nothing terrible was raked up. Well, not really.”

“Does that mean something was?” said Sam, “You seem quiet. I mean, quiet even for you.”

Cas looked back to the back seat, where Dean was sleeping. “He looks peaceful.” he said.

Sam looked back briefly. “Yes, he does.”

“Sam, he let me look into his mind. He wanted me to see what he thinks of me.”

“He did? That seems unusually brave for Dean.”

“Dean fights deities and demigods.” said Cas.

“Emotionally brave, for Dean.” said Sam.

“It was unexpected.” said Cas.

“Did you see something that troubled you?” said Sam, “Because I can promise you, Dean cares about you and he always will.”

“It didn’t trouble me. It seems more than I deserve, more than I can ever live up to, but to see his love, to know what our friendship means to him, that made all we have been through worthwhile.”

“You and Dean are weird.” said Sam, “I never needed to look into either of your minds to know how you feel about me or about each other. You each needed to see and you were both astonished at what you found. Of course he loves you. You pulled him out of Hell. You’ve been his best friend ever since. And of course you love him. He taught you about freedom and choice and Led Zeppelin.”

“But even you were surprised that he let me see into his thoughts.” said Cas.

“Yeah,” said Sam, “Dean doesn’t bare his soul often.” He glanced back at his sleeping brother again. “I wonder if he looks peaceful because he finally told you what you are to him.”

“I suspect it’s more that he told you the worst thing about Hell and you didn’t hate him.” said Cas.

“When do we wake him?” said Sam.

“No need to wake him before Lebanon.” said Cas, “Let him rest while he can. Do you think you’ll sleep well tonight? If you have more nightmares ... ”

“The dream I had last night, I think was telling me to talk to Dean while I can.” said Sam, “It was a message from my subconscious, warning me that I could lose him if we don’t communicate.”

“Whatever pushed you in that direction, you made the right decision.” said Cas, “You two did well today. All that honesty ... It’s good for all of us.”

“It felt good, really good.” said Sam, “Even when he told me what that monster did to him in Hell, it was good, just to have it said, out in the open. I couldn’t fight his damn self-loathing without knowing what it was based on. Now, I get it. No wonder it destroyed him. We can fix it. We can fix it all. We can get Dean out of all that twisted mess.”

“I think you’ve already helped him more than you know.” said Cas, “His biggest fear was that you would find out and you would never trust him again. Until today, I thought he would rather die than tell you.”

“I think he told me because if our relationship had to end, he wanted it to happen now. Why put off the inevitable?” said Sam, “Telling me almost was dying. I saw it in his eyes.”

“I’m glad he saw only love in yours.” said Cas.

“Only love, always, for him.” said Sam, “I owe him everything I have and everything I am and anything good I may one day be.”

“Me too.” said Cas.

“Of course, if you ever tell him I said that, I’ll shove your angel blade so far down your throat it’ll stab you in the ass.”

“Have I ever praised the poetry of your threats?” said Cas.

“No.” said Sam. 

“Ever wonder why?”

Soon, they were in Lebanon. They stopped a short distance from the bunker and Cas gently woke Dean.

“How do you feel, Dean?” asked Sam.

Dean smiled. “About ten years younger and a ton lighter. Are we ready to pretend to be weary hunters back from a routine ghost hunt?”

“We did lay a few ghosts.” said Sam. Seeing Cas’s puzzled expression, he said, “Metaphor, Cas.”

“I think I knew that.” said Cas, “Almost sure.”

“I should drive to the bunker.” said Dean.

“I thought you’d say that.” said Sam, getting out.

When they were all in their proper places, they drove to the bunker. News of their return soon reached Mary and she was waiting in the garage. She hugged Sam as soon as he was out of the car, gave a quick squeeze to Cas and then looked at Dean. “How was the vengeful spirit?” she said.

Sam was happy to see the light back in Dean’s eyes and the swagger back in his walk. He kissed her cheek and said, “Vengeful and spirited, but we kicked it in the ass. We ain’t afraid of no ghost.”

“I’ll get Jack. He’ll want to hear this.” she said.

“We’ll be in the library, once we’ve cleaned up.” said Dean, “Oh, and Mom, next hunt you’re on, I’m on it too. You’re right, we need some time together. It’ll be fun.”

She left, smiling. Sam turned to Dean, “You’re sure you’re ready for that?”

“I’m ready for anything.” said Dean. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other on Cas’s. “I have the best back-up in the world, possibly in any world, because apparently we don’t coincide in all of them. ‘First, whatever happens, we are family and there is nothing that can ever change that, nothing we can do or say to end it.’” he said, quoting the beginning of the Winchester Pact.

“He has the whole thing on his phone.” said Cas.

“You know, the guy who wrote that was a frickin’ genius.” said Dean.

“You should meet his brother.” said Sam.

“I’ve met them both.” said Cas, “Remarkable men.”

“But nothing without their angel brother.” said Dean.

“And he’d be nothing without them.”

“We have a lot of whisky and a lot of hunters.” said Dean, “Let’s get ‘em drunk and tell ‘em a ghost story.”

“Sounds good to me.” said Sam.

“Then, later, you can tell Jack the truth, Cas.” said Dean.

“How much of the truth?” said Cas, “I’ve already told Sam about what happened.”

“He’s your kid.” said Dean, “I’m the last person to ask a father to keep things from his son.”

“About what happened ...” said Cas, “Thanks.”

“Long overdue, Cas.” said Dean, “Sorry it took so long.” He smiled at Sam. “Ready, Sam?”

Sam saw another flash of pre-Hell Dean in those eyes bright with mischief. It was going to be a hell of a story and he was going to have fun helping Dean to spin it. Above all, though, he would enjoy watching his brother perform with his full showmanship and shine. “Hell, yeah.” he said. He turned to Cas, who was looking uneasy. “Just nod, smile and drink whisky, Cas.” he said, “You’ll be fine.”

“Hell, yeah!” said Dean.

  
_ The End. _

_ Next: Winchester 101. _


End file.
